


A Safe Haven

by ElizaStyx



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Angst, Caring Jensen, Cockles Week, Dorks in Love, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Falling In Love, First Kiss, Fisherman Jensen, Fluff, Holidays, Humour, Hurt Misha, Hurt/Comfort, I'm Sorry, I'm overly excited, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, It's not so sad though, Jensen never met Danneel, Job Loss, M/M, Miscommunication, Ocean, Rain, Recovery, Schmoop, Self-Harm, Singing, Slow Build, Smut, Storms, Supernatural was a grand failure without or baby Jen, Tattoos, Vicky is a voice over the phone, What-If, basically classical cockles, but not really, flustered Jensen, flustered Misha, generally Jensen's life went to shit at one point, it also is there, it leaves Misha jobless, it's a what-if story, it's sort of an AU, more tags will be added, porn in the last chapter, sad past, slight angst, that's basically it, these tags are chaos, unsuccessful actor Misha, village, what if Jensen wasn't an actor but a fisherman as he stated at one convention?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-24
Updated: 2015-09-08
Packaged: 2018-04-01 00:59:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 27,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3999910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElizaStyx/pseuds/ElizaStyx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When his acting career collapses spectacularly, Misha Collins, an actor unknown, is in desperate need for recovery. He needs space and time so he seeks for his calm in a tiny village by the ocean shore, where people's hearts are warm and welcoming  enough to counterpoise the frigidity of rain and wind. There, in a place where the waves are grey and the sunrays pierce through thick clouds, he finds himself under protective wings of a young fisherman Jensen, a man of many secrets and forgotten dreams hidden between the colourful lines of his tattoos.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I tried to explain this in tags but in case I failed, here it goes: I don't think this story is an AU in every sense of this word, it's more like this proverbial 'second leg of the trousers' where one thing went differently and everyone ended up in an entirely different place. If it were just like every other AU, I would probably make it destiel but this is a story about Misha and Jensen specifically and how I imagine their lives would look like given such a situation.  
> Warnings for Misha's struggles with self-harm. The explicit stuff will happen by the end of the story, in the epilogue, the rest of the fic is safe for work.  
> [The inspiration](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/61/98/8c/61988ce67e0c618d3877155d71e50a71.jpg)  
>   
>  ***NOW COMPLETE***  
> 

The strong wind brought a faint scent of salt and a sound of seagulls' shrieking, something foregin and yet strangely calming. From where he stood he could see the waves, grey and uninviting, with angry foam bulding up where misaligned peaks met and clamped on each other.

_Tomorrow will be better._ he promised himself. _It's just the rain._

Thick clouds gathered high above the tiny village, pouring down cold water in minute droplets that soaked through his clothes and damped his hair, leaving them in an absolute mess. It wasn't exactly a promising start but he wouldn't be himself, if he gave up just because his life looked a bit more shitty than usual. Okay, maybe this time it was a lot more shitty but that only dimished the meaning of this gruesome weather.

_I'll be okay._ he made one more promise, the same one he had made to Vicky upon his departure.

He had to be okay, there was no other option. That resolution helped him take another step towards a small, shabby restaurant, which towered over the whole village from its honorary place on the top of the hill.

***

His life could have been so much worse. He really could have done worse than this godforsaken utopia at the end of the world. He could have ended up doing things he would be ashamed of, now he at least had  a home and he had the ocean.

He heard some sailors laugh that the salt still hadn't sunk underneath his skin, that the sun still hadn't burned out all the delicacy of his pale complexion but he knew better than to fight with them. He knew that the ocean had been in his blood long before his first successful catch. Maybe it had been his calling from the very start. After all, Jensen Ackles could appreciate the simplicity of a fisherman's life.

The most important was this exceptional kind of beauty inseparably connected with the dependency on the forces of nautre. It was never up to him if he could leave the haven that day, if he would return home safe. Some said it was a hard duty, being married to the sea but he prefered to live this way. Capricious ocean never hurt those who devoted their lives to him.

Jensen wasn't a man of many needs either, having his own roof above his head and a group of people around him that cared for him as sincerely as he did for them, people who took him for who he was, it was more than enough. It was something to cherish, something to be grateful for.

Every day, if the weather was only good enough, he left with his tiny crew to face new challenges and hopefully return with a satisfying catch for local shops and restaurants. The pay was just so so, nowhere near overly satisfying but enough to survive on with dignity; that was just the way it had to be in the industrialised world growing more cruel and greedier every day. He wasn't complaining as long as he earned his keep. This tiny village and sandy shore were his home now.

***

The rain was particularly drudging that day. Jensen was dreaming about a hot shower and an evening under a warm blanket, while business matters kept him in the restaurant, stuck over a pile of papers with good, old Jim trying not to doze off. Jensen truly loved Jim, more than his own father (especially given his current family situation), but not exactly so much in that specific moment.

"Can't we just, I don't know..." he rubbed his face, his head heavy as if stuffed with cotton. "Do it tomorrow?"  
"My boy, in two days someone will come here to skin us alive, if we don't get this crap sorted out." Jim adjusted his glasses and then sent Jensen a slightly threatening look, having caught him roll his eyes. "For the love of God, get yourself together for an hour."  
"Nobody told me there was maths involved, when I picked up this job..." Jensen sighed gloomily.

The truth was that that day was perfect for all the paper work as neither of them could do anything productive anyway. The restaurant was empty, all the regulars and some generally lost adventurous visitors hiding somewhere else, probably somewhere much more cosy and lively than the crappy restaurant with almost white walls, dusted marine decorations and _from-my-experience-a-wash-once-in-few-years-is-absolutely-enough_ dirty curtains. He couldn't say no to Jim though.

Just as he resigned himself to the idea of a surely exhausting evening, the front door opened wide letting the cold wind in. Goosebumps rose on Jensen's arms, probably just from the sudden temperature change, and his heart fluttered anxiously, as if something truly alarming had just happened.

A person in the doorway was dripping wet, their silhouette strangely massive in the shade of the vestibule and Jensen felt his pulse quickening some more. However, when the visitor stepped further inside, Jensen immediately relaxed upon seeing a rather unthreatening guy with a loaded backpack and hair standing on every end. Dude looked a bit unusual, curled up from the cold, not looking straight at them but there wasn't anything unsettling about him, actually quite the opposite. Jensen felt a pang of sympathy, even though he didn't have a habit of trusting complete strangers.

"Uhm... hello?" fidgeting with his jacket, the man greeted them in a raspy, low voice that caught Jensen completely off guard.  
"Evenin', evenin'." Jim responded grumpily, eyeing him with scrutiny.  
"I-I've just gotten off the bus here and I wonder if you could maybe help me, show me where I can find a room or..." he hesitated, still staring at his feet. "A place where I can put up my tent?" he smiled shyly, raising his head. "I'd love to stay around for a while."

A pair of intensively blue eyes looked right into Jensen's soul. Jensen's mouth fell open, making him look completely idiotic, but he couldn't help being in shock. There was something absolutely stunning about this man, some kind of alluring mystery, a pinch of sadness, a beauty of soul. Jensen couldn't believe his thoughts running in such an absurd direction; things like that didn't happen, not to people like him.

Jim raised his brows, seeing his gobsmacked expression but didn't comment. Instead he turned to the unexpected visitor.  
"Well, a motel ain't a thing we have down here." he said and the man mercifully took his eyes off Jensen. "But surely someone can take you in, mister...?"  
"Collins. Misha Collins." the guy hurried to shake Jim's hand.  
"Just call me Jim." Jim smirked, visibly content with the handshake.

And then this man, MISHA, reached out to Jensen. Jensen gaped at his hand awkwardly and it took him a moment to proceed and grab it hesitantly. It was cold, no wonder, but the grip was firm, belonging to a man who didn't fear any work. Jensen had to remind himself to let go at some point.

"I'm Jensen." he said silently and grunted. "Jensen Ackles." he added in a much lower voice.

Misha ( _what kind of name is that even?_ ) grinned in a friendly way and Jensen decided to do quite possibly the most idiotic thing in his life.

"So, uh... You can..." he said, his voice still sounding unnaturally low. "You know, camp in my garden. If you want. Bathroom is also yours, I mean..." he blushed. "halfly yours but still... And I won't charge you anything."  
"Really?" Misha's grin grew impossibly wider; his future looking suddenly much brighter. "That's really nice of you, Jensen. I don't think I can..."  
"Haven't you ever been to a small village, boy?" Jim interrupted, coming to the rescue as Jensen reached a beet root level of redness fidgeting on his chair. "We love guests!" he bursted out with jovial laughter and Jensen wanted to crawl under the table and curl there to wait until his emotions return back to normal. Where the hell did all of his stoicism go?

Besides, he felt even more embarassed now because he automatically almost offered his second room to a completely unknown guy, who appeared apparently out of nothingness with his weirdass name and sunshaming grin. He changed the original thought to garden in the very last second. He almost fucking let somebody waltz into his private life without any hesitation and that was straight up terrifying. Thank gods, spirits or whatever is out there that he didn't offer sharing his bed in the first minute.  
_Way to go, Ackles._ he mentally kicked himself in the ass, while he brought a nervous smile onto his face.

Misha laughed along with Jim and then looked back at Jensen, swaying on his feet minutely.  
"I'm sorry for just walking in there like that, I clearly interrupted you." he said and Jensen saw a chance for himself.  
"No, no, don't worry!" he almost jumped up, making both Misha and Jim flinch at a sudden movement. "We got this covered." he laughed awkwardly. "I reckon you would probably like to use that bathroom now." oh God, that just sounded wrong.  
"Yes, please, thank you very much." Misha bowed his head at Jim and then let Jensen lead him towards the exit.

Jim just shook his head, watching Jensen almost trip over a chair and then fondle with a spare umbrella for Misha to use.  
"I'll..." Jensen stuttered, gesturing wildly. "I'll come tomorrow, okay?"  
Jim just waved him off, hiding his face in his palms.

***

Misha was positively surprised. Or rather **very** positively surprised. His mood turned from 'smelly mud at the bottom of the hell' into 'wet puppy tucked into a warm towel' over the course of three minutes and all of this just because of one, extremely kind guy. Sometimes he doubted that there was any good in this whole world left but then people like Jensen appeared and his faith in humanity was restored. Every single word said by Jensen had a nice cling to it and suddenly he believed once again that choosing a place to go completely randomly had been his best idea by far.

He glanced at Jensen's a bit closed off profile from time to time as they walked down the hill, passing a couple of neatly looking houses. Not all of them had representative front gardens or flowers on the windowsills but they all seemed to be in good shape and taken care of well. It was clear that this village was inhabited by righteous citizens and probably none of them would refuse him access to their gardens and facilities. For some reason though he was glad that Jensen was the first person he encountered.

Misha hoped he didn't behave creepily in any way; he had a talent to scare people off and it seemed to be generally a hard work to really like him. Maybe Jensen was just a golden-hearted person, unable to say no to his plea? Misha didn't want him to feel quite as uncomfortable as he seemed to be in that moment.

"Hey, Jen..." he said quietly after a while and Jensen started coughing, clearly surprised to hear him; not good. "I just wanna say that I'll try to be as little trouble as possible. I don't wanna abuse your kindness."  
"Oh, it's okay, really." Jensen looked a little flushed but maybe it was just the shade his umbrella cast over his face. "I'm usually not home half of the day anyway. I'll get you a key so you can use the bathroom while I'm gone, okay?"  
"Uhm, yes." Misha was suddenly abashed, overwhelmed by the trust. "Can I ask what you do for living?"  
"I'm just a mere fisherman." Jensen shrugged. "Unexpected, huh?"  
Misha eyed Jensen's features, not-so-tan and freckled skin and well, the results screamed more _pretty_ than _tough_. Actually _very pretty_. Misha blinked.  
"Not really." he said, continuing to ogle him discreetly.  _It **is** a blush._ he decided after a while, a surprisingly warm smile spreading across his face.


	2. Chapter 2

Jensen's house was one of many things Misha wasn't expecting to come across on that day. It clearly wasn't spacey, just enough for one person, maybe two if the attic was adapted, and it was definitely cute. The walls were painted a calm shade of light blue, the front garden orderly, clearly not owned by a gardening fan but stull by someone who made an effort and planted few rose bushes to give it a colourful touch.

Jensen was pretty self-conscious as he led Misha onto the porch and somehow it made Misha feel a tiny bit warmer at heart. Maybe living up to his promises could turn out to be not even half as hard a task as he thought it to be. There was something healing, soothing in the atmosphere. And in Jensen.

"I love the roses." Misha said as Jensen was fondling with his keys, making him almost drop them.  
"Uh, thanks." Jensen glanced at him, smiling nervously. "I kinda have a weak spot for them..." he bit his tongue and Misha was suddenly far more intrigued.

Intrigued was about a hundred times better than depressed by his book. Definitely best coincidence of his life, finding himself here.

It took some time before Jensen eventually let them both in and they could shake the water off their umbrellas and clothes. The interior was warm, small square corridor only just big enough for two grown up men to lose clothes but Misha still had to watch out not to stick his elbow into Jensen's face. His jacket was fortunately not completely soaked through but it still needed to be hung above a heater, which Jensen did without hesitation, almost tearing it out of Misha's grip. Misha just kind of stood there and tried to be smaller than he really was, while Jensen took care of all his belongings revealing a bathroom behind one of the doors by the way. The second door led to a kitchen so Misha figured the third wold guard the entrance to Jensen's living room or bedroom. He didn't find out which one though as Jensen quickly led him to the bright kitchen and sat him down by a solid, wooden table.

As soon as Misha was seated, Jensen took a sit too and gazed at Misha expectantly. The sudden silence after few minutes of intense activity felt a bit overwhelming. Almost against his will Misha grinned and Jensen's confusion visibly grew.

"Can I use the bathroom now?" Misha asked smugly.  
"Oh." Jensen obviously had forgotten about that. "Sure, yeah." he nervously rubbed the back of his neck.

***

This was clearly pure madness. Even though the guy seemed to be okay, it still was fucking insane of him. He rarely invited his friends over, left alone complete strangers and yet there he was, freaking Misha locked in his bathroom. He had no idea what had gotten into him. Sure thing, he was a friendly man but not quite **that** friendly. 

Jensen ruffled his hair as if it could help him concentrate. Then he stood up and heaved a nervous circle around the kitchen, almost bumping his hip into a counter. He could hear the shower running and it was surreal, having somebody in his house use it like a regular habitant. Unbelievable he had just let someone slip into his sphere of privacy so fast, that he had let it happen at all. With some sort of relief he realised that at least some of his secrets were still safe and they could stay that way.

Making sure Misha was still occupied, Jensen quickly strolled to his living room and silently thanked the force that made him install locks in every door of his house. Maybe it was kind of obnoxious of him but he didn't plan on letting anyone stick their noses into his business. He relaxed only after both of the entrances to his living and sleeping area were locked. The kitchen was a ground he could share and he found it relieving that the backdoor led there, not to the room.

Slowly he sunk back onto the chair and gaped at the wall before him. Only then it hit him how hot actually it was in there. He was sweating from all this pacing around so with a long sigh he stood up again to open the window and take off his plaid overshirt. That was why Misha found him few seconds later in his old Beatles tee standing awkwardly in the middle of the tiled floor. Jensen felt strangely bare under his scrutiny.  
"Wow." Misha made a face of approval. "Now I can finally belive in the fisherman part."

Ah, well, the tattoos.

***

They weren't just some random designs from these books that lay around tattoo shops for those who don't have any specific ideas but just want some ink for whatever reason they find good enough. Misha couldn't see much from where he stood but there clearly were complicated, colourful patterns etched into Jensen's admittably well-developed arms. He frankly wished the short sleeves of the t-shirt were pretty much non-existent so he could see everything without being too creepy.

Or well, creepier than now, if this was even possible, given Jensen's absolutely mortified expression.

Misha forced himself to look away and sit down on the same place Jensen previously showed him up to.  
"Once again thank you for taking care of me." he said, smiling softly and absolutely not looking at him.  
"Don't mention it." Jensen shook himself out of the trance and moved to turn his back to Misha and rummage through the cupboards.  
Misha had to summon all of his willpower not to stare. It made him miss the moment Jensen said something else to him.

"Excuse me?" he asked, feeling pretty dumb and honestly, a bit disgusted with himself.  
"Do you like hot chocolate?" Jensen repeated and glanced at him, raising up a package of cocoa and waving it a little to stress his words.  
"Of course I do." Misha didn't expect a treat but well, he generally didn't expect anything that happened to him that day. "But you really don't have to..."  
"Hush!" suddenly Jensen was facing him fully, looking straight into his eyes. "Please, just stop with the thanks and courtesies, okay?" he was standing pretty damn close, leaning into Misha's space. "I am perfectly aware that I'm not obliged to do any of this but it's my choice to do it anyway. For you. So deal with it."

Misha felt his mouth fall slightly open as Jensen's eyes bore into him. That man clearly didn't like his kindness pointed out and praised. Misha could easily imagine him as one of those terrifying, grumpy old guys from family friendly comedies that turn out to be caring and lovable deep inside. Except for the fact that Jensen was far from looking like a creepy grandpa being probably around thirty years old and well, undeniably hot. Misha licked his lips involuntarily and his eyes widened in surprise as Jensen glanced down to follow the flick of his tongue before returning to their staredown, as if daring him to comment on that. This was definitely something else.

If Misha had to be completely honest with himself though, the most facinating thing was that nobody had ever so thoroughly looked at him before, stared into his soul so boldly. It should have been unsettling, too bizzare even for Misha's standards but somehow it wasn't. He was surprisingly okay with Jensen seeing what's really going on behind his well put up facade of a noisy parrot. Sure thing, this extrovert clown most people saw him as was _him_ but not the whole him and Jensen seemed to be searching for that hidden part of Misha, as if expecting it to be a gem of rare beauty. But then again, Misha realised, he probably would be massively disappointed to discover all the pitiful self-loathing that Misha got going in there. So actually, even though Misha was okay with him finding out about who he really was, Jensen couldn't possibly be ready for being flooded with such a load of crap just now. Misha couldn't allow him to do this. At least not in that moment.

It was a huge effort but he managed to tear his gaze away from Jensen's, breaking the connection. Jensen grunted as if only realising he had been staring so intensively.  
"Chocolate then?" he asked, backing away and turning to the cupboards again.  
"Only if you get some too." Misha actually figured he would feel more comfortable sharing a mug with Jensen than just being watched.

Shortly afterwards Jensen turned out to be pretty clumsy a cook and Misha felt sort of bad for him, wishing he could help but deciding that interrupting even with good intentions would be a little too much for such an early stage of acquaintance. He just tried not to cringe as Jensen spilled the milk all over the counter, he tried not to run to the rescue as the cocoa powder went flying. He felt Jensen's embarassment on a very personal level. However, in his case people around usually laughed; he was just so funny, that Misha guy. Bearing all of his personal experiences in mind, he sent Jensen his biggest, most radiant grin upon receiving his cup. Jensen smiled back at him rather sheepishly and it was okay, the were good.

And so the evening went on mostly silently but companionable, not many words exchanged but many things said and shown with tiny smiles and shy looks.

Eventually Misha could take a closer look at Jensen as he sat down to join him by the table. Not without an honest surprise, he discovered roses creeping up Jensen's right arm, seemingly growing out of his skin right above the elbow and climbing up the curves of his muscles to disappear underneath the black fabric of his shirt. He couldn't help but wonder how far they went. By the time the rain had stopped, he didn't get his answer though. He actually despised the necessity of putting up his tent. He would rather sit through the night here, on this uncomfortable stool, sharing the silence with one extraordinary man.

***

It was getting dark already but still it was a tiny miracle it had stopped raining just in time for them to manage setting everything up before the dusk. Jensen felt halfly relieved, halfly disappointed as the tent was finally erected and ready for Misha to sleep in. Misha himself didn't seem particularly eager to get in there either and it was tempting to offer him a place on that trashy sofa, it really weirdly was but Jensen knew he shouldn't even be considering that. It would be careless and stupid and he was none of these two.

"Okay..." he begun, wiping a drop of sweat off his forehead. "Here's the deal. This is the key to the back door." he fished it out of his pocket. "You can use the kitchen and bathroom freely. I'll make some place for you in the fridge tomorrow morning so while I'm gone you can move in whatever you need." he handed the key to Misha, their fingers brushing minutely as it changed the owner.  
"Thank you." Misha slipped it into his jeans and Jensen rubbed his nape once again.

They locked gazes in the grayish light of the quickly setting sun. Jensen felt like a complete jackass, letting Misha just... happen to him but truth to be told, he couldn't imagine this evening looking any different. He couldn't imagine counting their alarmingly low income with Jim instead of experiencing this, whatever this was. So yeah, it was extremely weird but weird doesn't necessarily always mean bad. It means different and he somehow could already tell that Misha was a good kind of unusual, all good kinds of it.

"Well then" Jensen grunted, covering his mouth to mask at least some of the blush that creeped up his neck and onto his face. "I'll see you tomorrow, I guess."  
"Yeah, surely." Misha smiled sincerely and giving him an awkward little wave, squatted to open up the tent.  
He glanced back at Jen one more time, saw him raise his hand in a salute and still smiling, crawled inside to slip into his sleeping bag.

Jensen tottered on his spot, not entirely sure what to do himself as Misha finally disappeared from his sight. It took him a moment but he gathered his wits enough to shake the confusion off and walk away; he didn't stay around long enough to hear Misha calling Vicky and reporting in a hushed, joyful voice that his day went unexpectedly nice thanks to a certain green-eyed man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the updated info on updates check the A/N at the very beginning of the story. Exams are coming *shrieks*


	3. Chapter 3

It wasn't the rain that woke Misha up, which was already something good to begin the day with. He stuck his messy head out of the tent and with one eye still squeezed shut, took in all of his surroundings. The sky was grey, clouds crowding above him but not promising any oncoming rainfall. Jensen's garden wasn't big, rather matched the house size and with a lawn orderly mowed it would be a neat place to picnic, if only the weather was more summer-like. Two cherry trees would give a big enough shade in case of sun actually shining. Misha also identified what caused his awakening. At least two starlings were rustling and making a lot of noise between the tree leaves in search for the last forgotten fruits.

He sneaked out of his tent as silently as possible, not to scare the birds away and having zipped his tent up, he stretched his body like a cat, making few of his joints crack. Once he was sure he could walk without getting any major injuries, he headed to the house to start the day with a pleasant shower and the see what kind of entertainment he could provide himself with.

The key was heavy in his hand and warm from a night spent in his pants; something made Misha gape at it for a while before actually putting it to a use. Halfly expecting to be shouted at, he opened the door carefully but nothing happened. A complete silence greeted him inside. He frowned in confusion before he actually caught on with the fact that the weather was suitable for work and Jensen probably had left to sail and fish. Suddenly he felt very lonely. Not that he actually counted on sharing a breakfast with his 'landlord' but yeah, he totally did, sue him.

Feeling strangely obliged not to interrupt the silence, he closed the door as carefully as he opened it before and headed towards the bathroom through the kitchen as planned. The set up of this house seemed a bit unusual with bathroom being a small closed space in the center of the building, surrounded by the kitchen on one side and the room Misha hadn't seen yet on the other but it did make some sort of sense. It also made him pass by the table on his way to the toilet and made him notice a small plate set on said table with two sandwiches crowding it and smelling sinfully delicious.

Misha frowned at the sight and stopped to take a closer look. If Jensen forgot his breakfast, Misha could at least hide it in the fridge to prevent it from spoiling. Upon approaching the table though, he spotted a note tucked under the rim of the plate. It read quite simply:

 _For a good start of the day_  
_J._

Misha raised the card to his eye level as if begging it to tell him more, reveal the true intentions behind this setting because sure as hell this was confusing. And grossily hearwarming.

After a moment he put the note down and eyed the breakfast itself. Two seemingly simple sandwiches. He lifted the top slice of bread from one of them and leaned down to examine the stuffing. It looked as if Jensen couldn't decide what Misha actually would like to eat (and at this point he would basically eat anything as long as it wasn't growing legs just yet) so he put everything in - two kinds of cooked meats, three pieces of cheese, salad, tomato, mustard, onion... Misha raised his brows in disbelief as a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. Good Lord, that man was really something else...

He put that slice of bread back down and feeling surprisingly uplifted, proceeded with the shower first, before coming back to enjoy the breakfast. It was good, even twice as good, when he discovered a vast choice of tea and coffee left for him by the kettle to accompany the food. Even though he was alone, he felt taken care of. It was definitely a pleasant feeling.

***

Observing calm, grey waves hit the shore and paint mysterious patterns with the foam, Misha thought about the tranquillity of this place and how much his disturbed soul needed to find itself just in it. He sat down on a concrete post that someone had set there for a reason now forgotten and contemplated the sight before his eyes, the sound of wet sand crounching underneath his boots every time he shifted a little.

The horizon was clear, not a living soul exploring the calm plane of the ocean but Misha imagined there was this small ship of Jensen somewhere out there, just not visible to his human eyes. That thought was surprisingly reassuring.

And maybe the calm, ethereal ambience of the shore should soothe him but it also started bringing along a touch of melancholy that made him think about home, feel this heavy weight of guilt in his chest that was pulling him down to the ground so strongly. He did realise it was mostly just him and his own doubt in himself; he knew that Vicky didn't blame him for where they currently were, what with all the jobelssness and financial stuggles. He just couldn't get over it so easily. He felt they both should be doing better than this, they deserved stability, sure monthly income, cute house, happy kids... And he could not stop blaming himself for not delivering these. His whole life looked like this, endless fight for survival, homelessness... one day he just couldn't find it in himself to blame bad luck any longer. It must have been him, bringing this onto the people he loved, failing them. Nobody had this much misfortune; he was certainly doing something wrong.

Sometimes Misha had this urge to scream at the world that this was all so unfair but then he always reflected that maybe it wasn't, after all, maybe he did deserve that. Vicky didn't though, so he told her countless times she was free to go, to pursuit her happiness and yet she always stayed with him. Over the years she had fallen in love many times but she had never stopped loving him the most, choosing him above all others, even though he couldn't understand why. Vicky's love wasn't his merit, which made it hard to accept but if there was at least one thing **he** did well, a thing **he** didn't screw up from the beginning, he would be doing better, he would maybe believe in all the good that happened to him. He would look at his life and smile sincerely.

And maybe just now he had this stupid hope that this thing with Jensen was it. He wished he could have one friendship that didn't screw the other person's life completely, didn't put them in a position where they had to sacrifice something of their own for Misha's sake over and over again.

Misha smiled at the memory of Jensen being so effortlessly kind and trying to diminish the importance of it. Normally after such a rush of thoughts on his current situation, he would feel a familiar itch underneath his skin, a call for relief that was unachievable, so far from even scratching the surface of all the regret and pain that boiled within him and wanted to escape but this time... It wasn't there. Instead there was hope, shedding warm light on the yet unknown path towards the future. Misha felt he had to grasp it and hold onto it with all his might, even though its failure could destroy him completely. This time a fall could turn out deadly, he was well aware of that, but he also knew this was finally a chance to escape this vicious circle his life had become. He couldn't give up on it.

***

The next hour he had spent hanging out on the beach brought him to yet another resolution. His priority was to make sure his new friendship would survive. And given that Jensen had shown him nothing but kindness, he felt a need to even out the bill at least a tiny bit to show that he did care too. Being a parasite wasn't his preferred role in any relationship and he had been this way too many times already.

Keeping that in mind, he climbed up the hill in search for a shop that must have been there. His assumption wasn't wrong and soon he entered one of those everything-in-one-place markets with a typical, extremely nice and curious owner behind the counter.

"Hello." he greeted the young woman who bore a pair of light blue eyes into him the moment he entered her shop.  
"Hi." she smiled. "How can I help you?"  
"Umm, so I'm spending my holidays here" he begun, smiling back at her. "and this extremely nice guy allowed me to camp in his garden, Jensen actually, you probably know him, and so I thought I could maybe buy a thank you present for him..." he hestitated as she kept staring at him with a polite expression. "You know, something nice and little. Maybe not necessarily a kitten but you know the drill." he looked at her hopefully.  
"Jensen invited you?" she bit her lip in clear amusement and Misha frowned suspiciously but decided not to ask. "Okay then, let's see what we have here..." she tore her cautious gaze off Misha and literally hopped onto a ladder that stood behind her to rummage through the top shelves. "He does like sweets so maybe a nice treat could be a good idea."  
"Sure thing, whatever you say." Misha felt uneasy, watching her reach pretty far to the sides while balancing on the old ladder. "I know him for one day only, after all..." that confession earned him a quick glance and a rise of eyebrows.  
"Alrighty then..." she picked three boxes and nearly jumped down, making Misha cringe. "All of them should be to his liking, just choose one." she adjusted her fringe, huffing.

Misha eyed warily all three boxes. All of them looked elegant enough but from his experience he knew that these fancy pralines would make Jensen reach sweetness overload pretty quick, about thirty percent of these filled chocolates would turn out uneatable but the third ones, nugat filled shells were undeniably perfect. He remembered he enjoyed those greatly that one time he came across them.

"I'll take these." he picked the box and handed it back to her.  
"Ah, yes, they surely can warm the cockles of ones heart." she winked and scanned the barcode.  
Misha just chuckled, thinking that Jensen would surely smile at that too.  
Still grinning, she put the box into a neat bag and pushed it towards him as he paid. "Here you are."  
"Thanks, ma'am." he bowed his head theatrically, picking it up.  
"I'm Erica, don't ma'am me." she cocked her head.  
"I'm Misha, pleasure to meet you." funnily enough, he involutarily tilted his head too.  
They shook hands, her grasp firm, meaning business.  
"I guess I'll see you around then?" she smiled.  
"If only my landlord appreciates my sense of humour." he raised the bag a little.  
"Ah, I'm sure he does." her grin grew decidely wider, knowing even. "Trust me."

***

It was fortunate that from his tent Misha could clearly hear Jensen returning home, humming silently as he opened the front door and slammed it shut behind himself. He waited another half an hour, trying to read his book but failing miserably, before he finally decided he probably wouldn't interrupt a shower or wake Jensen up from a nap and knocked on the backdoor hesitantly.

"Hi." he said as they opened up and Jensen blinked at him, adjusting his still wet hair. "So... Uhm... I'm sorry to interrupt, I just wanted to thank you for the breakfast and generally, you know, for everything." Misha smiled sheepishly. "I bought you these, it's not much, I know, but I just can't think of a way to even begin to repay you, you're just so kind and... I-I hope you like them." he pulled the chocolates out from behind his back, feeling all kinds of stupid.

Jensen eyed the box with slight confusion and then, slowly, a smile spread across his face, his whole being lighting up. "For me?" he looked at Misha like an excited kid. "Really?"  
"Of course, Jen." Misha couldn't help smiling wider. "It's just symbolic, I'm afraid they don't sell a life-size chocolate monuments of t-rex around here and that would show much better how thankful I exactly am."  
Jensen chuckled at that. "Aw, Mish, you didn't have to." he took the box carefully and gave it a quick once over before returning to staring at him.

"You surely deserve all the gratitude." Misha took a little step back and gestured towards his tent awkwardly, not wanting to intrude any more than necessary. "So, yeah, enjoy your afternoon and..." he rubbed his sides, unsure what to do with his hands. "Your chocolates."  
"Hey, wait." Jensen frowned at his sudden retreat. "How about..." he stuttered.  
Misha stopped and eyed him, feeling his heart start to pound decidely faster. "Yeah?"  
"Wouldn't you... wouldn't you like to join me for a dinner?" Jensen actually blushed. "I mean, if you haven't eaten already, of course, and I'm not forcing you to so just... If you want to keep me company, I would be really glad to have you. But you don't have to, don't worry. Just say no and you're free, I won't feel offended." he started blabbing.  
Misha felt like bursting out from sudden joy. "Of course!" he said maybe a bit too enthusiastically. "Of course I would like to share a dinner with you." 


	4. Chapter 4

As far as his dining experiences went, he knew they had a high potential of getting awkward at some point. Jensen braced himself for a fair dose of embarassment, while he let Misha in. He was probably being an idiot again but he figured it was just the way this man worked on him, turning his life into a stream of unexpected decisions. He had had his fair share of unfortunate life choices be he never actually thought himself a gambler. Clearly he didn't know himself that well, after all. Not really a surprising discovery after a series of atypical reactions Misha's actions had drawn out of him.

Like for example these chocolates. It was nothing, really, a small gift he should have gratefully accepted, eat and forget but no. It had to make him feel that sappy warmth, as if giving someone a portion of sweet nougat cockles and mussels meant a declaration of undying love or whatever the hell could make him feel that way. Jesus, he couldn't look at Misha, at his actions and not think about all the romantic tropes from the books and movies he had officialy never read or seen but secretly was a huge fan of. This was some higher level of creepy but maybe it wasn't entirely his fault, which kind of made him feel better about his dumb brain. Misha just had this charming aura and Jensen was a simple man, not an emotionless robot. Still, there probably should be a bit more reason behind his deeds.

Jensen had already had a hard time concentrating on his work on that day because he kept worrying if Misha liked the sandwiches and now he was even more out of control, inviting the man for dinner so desperately as if he had been starving for his company. And the worst part was that he totally felt like it; he was in an unexplainably serious need for more Misha in his life. His own thoughts were freaking him out; this dinner was so meant to end up on an awkward note.

***

Jensen inviting him in was by far the best surprise of that day. Misha couldn't help grinning as he followed the man inside. For some reason he didn't feel like an intruder in any way, even though they barely knew each other.

The soup was already cooking in a red pot on the stove but the meat was still sitting raw on the counter, waiting to be cooked or fried, whichever Jensen planned on doing before Misha interrupted him. Jensen stared at the indegrients absently, as if trying to remember what he had been trying to achieve there.

"I can help." Misha heard himself offering.  
"Huh?" Jensen was clearly lost in some other dimension.  
"I'm not so bad a cook." Misha grinned. "Just tell me what you want me to do for you and I'll do it."  
That wasn't supposed to sound so ambiguous, nevertheless it did and Jensen gave him a not so discreet once over before returning to reality. Dinner preparation was definitely one of typical porn settings so Misha figured the evening could become much more interesting than expected.  
"Sure." Jensen grunted, turning towards the counter not to look at him. "Could you slice the onion, please?"  
"No problem." Misha vigoruosly picked up his task.

For a while they worked in almost complete silence. A sudden homeliness of the whole situation made them both quickly relax and find joy in each other's quiet company. As a cooking team they were pretty efficient and Misha quickly learned how to navigate Jensen's small kitchen so that they both could concentrate on their tasks and not bump into each other all the time.

Unless the bumping was purposeful, of course.

Misha wasn't ashamed of the fact than he not-quite-accidentaly groped Jensen while sliding past him to drop the onion rings onto the pan. The tips of Jensen's ears became so beautifully red, he wanted nothing more but to check whether other pointy bits of Jensen flushed so easily too.  
Jensen, on the other hand, was much more subtle, if he was even aware at all of what he was doing. Misha couldn't tell for sure, if his hand landing on the small of Misha's back at least three times as they were switching places, was a part of Jensen's agenda or rather an involuntary gesture. Only once he had spotted a smug smirk on Jensen's face, when Jensen thought he wasn't looking. It wasn't a final evidence; however, this whole situation looked promising.

 _Don't screw it, Misha._ he almost begged himself. _One thing done right._

Just as he thought that, Jensen turned to him and smiled softly. Misha was immediately struck by how beautiful that man was; he could easily become a model and famous designers would fight for him, offer him so much cash he could fuel a fireplace with one hunder dollar bills for the rest of his life. How did he end up being stuck in a godforsaken village by the sea was a secret of the universe.

"The soup is ready." Jensen's voice was just as soft as his expression. "Let's sit down."

Misha almost fell on his stool face first.

***

The soup was delicious and that was about everything Misha could tell since he had no idea what had been put inside of the pot. There were various vegetables floating around, little bits of cooked meat and grits in there and he was sure he hadn't eaten anything quite like that before. For Jensen though it must have been some sort of default soup choice, since he hadn't even asked Misha if he liked it, probably assuming it wasn't anything special. Misha decided to take matters in his hands.

"Wow, that's tasty." he complimented, setting the empty plate aside.  
"Thanks." Jensen smiled shyly. "Mother's take on barley soup."  
"I surely need a recipe." Misha looked at him intently.

They locked gazes and froze, staring at each other above the table top. There was a strange gravity in Jensen's eyes that kept pulling Misha closer, luring him in. He couldn't really oppose this, didn't want to. It felt right. If only this piece of furniture could magically vanish from between them, if the distance could just disappear...

They could probably sit like that for another hour but suddenly the meat started sizzling loudly on the pan and they both were torn out of the trance, jumping up to take care of it. On their way to the stove they bumped into each other quite forcefully and then almost burned themselves, trying to grab the pan in the same moment, which resulted in Misha grabbing Jensen's hand that gripped the handle.

Their sights zeroed in on their connected palms that lifted the pan above the fire in what seemed to be a monument worthy pose.

"And now I pronounce you your pan co-holders." muttered Misha ironically, mostly to himself. "You may now hold your pan together."

It was that moment, when Jensen just completely lost it. He threw his head back and bursted out with loud, uncontrolled laughter, almost flipping over said pan, Misha's steady grip being the only thing that kept it horizontal. Misha watched him with fascination because clearly his words weren't that funny and yet Jensen was a sight to behold.

"Oh, man." it took him a good while but he finally calmed down and guided their hands to put the pan down on the counter. "Are we pan-married now?" his cheeks were positively flushed.  
"Well, I am absolutely okay with holding your pan 'til the oil runs out." Misha said seriously and Jensen glanced at him before doing that full body laugh again.

Forget the pan, Misha would be glad to watch Jensen lose it like that until the end of his life.

***

By the time they dealt with the meat and without any further adventures managed to sit down for consumption, the atmosphere became absolutely domestic. The food they prepared was tasty and since they both weren't lacking appetite, everything was soon pretty much gone, leaving them to settle down with tea, naturally prolonging their time together, no questions asked.

"So..." Jensen begun after a while of humming above the steaming brew. "Since I shared some of my secrets, I feel you need to tell me a little more about yourself. For example what do you do for living, if I may ask?"  
Misha chuckled at Jensen's curiosity. "Well, you cannot say I am exactly doing that because I cleary am not right now but for what is worth, I'm used to calling myself an actor." he shrugged. "At least that's what my papers say."

He almost managed to remain unaffected, it was a normal question often asked by people less familiar than Jensen, and yet a single thought about his 'career' rubbed him the wrong way. He could fake being okay with that though. What surprised him more than his own heart sinking a little was that Jensen tensed up too. As if he actually knew how bad it could made Misha feel but he couldn't... could he?

 _Oh, no._ thought Misha. _I'm already screwing up._ his forearms itched and he gritted his teeth to stop the dreadful fear from raising in his chest.

Quickly he just threw in the first fact about himself that could distract them both. "By the way... did I tell you that officially my name's not Misha?"  
"What?" Jensen was clearly surprised to hear him speak and looked at him with big eyes. "Really?"  
"Hundred percent true. I'm Dmitri. For real." still a bit fake grin appeared on Misha's face as he leaned towards him. "And it's not a thing I just tell everyone so you'd better guard my secret well." he winked and finally an impish spark returned to Jensen's eyes.  
"It's Russian... Can you do the accent then?" he asked, leaning closer too.  
"You mean an India-Russian one?" Misha responded in said accent.  
Jensen gaped at him, looking completely dumbstruck.  
"What?" Misha continued in the same manner. "Don't you like it? I'm pretty proud of my skills." he raised his chin theatrically.  
Jensen just sort of eyed him with disbelief. "Please, do tell me more..."  
"Aaaah, you like it then!" this time Misha's chuckle was absolutely sincere. "Nobody can resist Dmitri's charm!"

And there it came, Jensen lost it again, his fit of giggles almost hysterical, making Misha laugh happily too. Just like that the itch was completely gone.

***

When the sun went down and the third kettle of tea turned cold, it was time for Misha to say goodnight again and disappear from Jensen's life for far too many hours. Jensen couldn't believe he was actually thinking about it in such a way but this was the whole truth, no reason to deceive himself. After so many years of living alone, he finally had a company, an amazing one that made him feel immensely happy and he didn't want to let go of that, even if just for a night and a morning. It was true that Misha was still practically a stranger but Jensen felt like he knew the man for real, like he could trust him to an extent he hadn't trusted anyone in past ten years.

In that moment, when Misha accidentaly and probably unkowingly hit very close home, answering his question, his first reflex was to flee but then, maybe a second later as he saw Misha retreat and actually see that something was wrong, he realised that he actually could share. Maybe not everything, not yet, but he really was ready to leave that door ajar, let some fresh air and light in. He would maybe even try it right in that moment but Misha didn't allow him, pushing them back onto a safe path of meaningless conversation. Truth to be told, Jensen wasn't sure if he was thankful for that; maybe telling the truth would give him some relief and give Misha another perspective on whether he wanted to continue their friendship or not. Jensen probably owed him that much before they become emotionally invested. So well, he needed to find a way to tell him and hope it wouldn't destroy the bond that was definitely forming between them. Hopefully, he still had few days to think about that.

For now it was much more worrying that his heart sunk as Misha stepped out of the house and into the garden smiling sadly and looking at him with some sort of hopefulness Jensen couldn't so easily ignore. Their afternoon and evening together was so... different from all his experiences, he could get used to that. Hell, he already was getting used to it and now he caught himself thinking that he wanted nothing more but to take two steps forward, embrace Misha and pull him back inside the house. It was completely terrifying and extremely appealing at the same time; he felt a shiver go down his spine as they locked gazes.

"Thank you for the dinner and wonderful evening, Jen." Misha muttered softly.  
"My pleasure." Jensen lowered his voice too. "You know... You can feel invited tomorrow too. Unless, of course, you don't wanna..."  
"Why wouldn't I?" Misha chuckled, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "It's... nice."  
"I'm glad you think so." Jensen smiled, leaning against the doorframe.  
"You're nice, Jensen." Misha's eyes were now so big, full of honest gratitude and affection and Jensen had no idea how on Earth he was still maintaining the distance between them, if he could just take this goddamned step and... and... "I'll see you tomorrow then?" Misha broke his trail of thoughts.  
"Sure." he could hear his voice falter, get quieter. "Have a good night, Mish."  
"You too, Jen."  
And just like that Misha was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here comes an announcement: the annual real life hunger games (called so lamely "finals" by the rest of population) begin for me this Friday and will last til the 26th of June. That being said, I hope you understand that this work will probably go on a small hiatus during these two weeks. I mean, there's a chance I will say 'screw my life' and post a chapter anyway but yeah... if I manage to stay reasonable enough and pass this shit that I have to pass, then you can expect chapter 5 on 26th/27th June. Afterwards the uptades will probably become even more frequent than they were before because I'll try to redeem myself to you (and I'll have so much more time on my hands). Don't worry, this work WON'T BE ABANDONED, I know exactly where I want this story to go and I have a very detailed plan on my hands. I just don't have time right now to fullfill it. Wish me luck and see you around! :)


	5. Chapter 5

The house was quiet again, however, the silence felt oddly domestic as if he should expect to find Jensen reading a newspaper, sitting just behind the corner. Of course Misha knew that this wasn't going to happen but still there was some sort of pleasant expectancy hanging in the air.

There was actual sun shining through the thin, delicate curtains and Misha sat down in a warm spot of light to consume the breakfast that Jensen had yet again prepared for him. If he wasn't so heartwarmed by this gesture, he would feel rather uneasy for having ridiculously little ways to repay him. He would have to wake up at four am to return the breakfast favour and damn if it wouldn't be more creepy than anything. Chewing his sandwich he decided against even trying to do that but... He could cook a dinner. Jensen had already invited him over for one so he could as well cook it for them. Yes, that was definitely a good idea. Misha grinned to himself. Yesterday Jensen had returned home at about five pm so that left him with plenty of time to take a walk first, think of an appropriate dish, do the shopping and then return home to get everything ready. Perfect. Still smiling minutely, he cleaned up the kitchen and cheerfully marched out of the house towards the beach to proceed with his plan.

***

The main street that run through the whole village down the hill led straight to a tiny port. On his first walk there, Misha took a turn before he reached the haven and went onto the sandy part of the beach but today something told him to visit the harbour first. He expected to find several private boats floating around in a neat row, certainly not a pretty big vessel filling almost a quarter of the whole avaliable space. Misha whistled with appreciation; even from a distance it seemed to be a well-kept, working ship.

 _Working ship, not a yacht._ he realised. _Jensen's?_ his heart skipped a beat. Almost involuntarily he picked up the pace, eager to check, if his suspicions were right.

Upon closing in on the boat, he saw that somebody was sitting on the promenade surrounded by a tangle of nets. The silhouette was definitely familiar so if the man's presence was any indication, Misha wasn't wrong in his deduction; the ship, named Icarus as he could read when he came close enough, really did belong to Jensen. Jensen who was so focused on his bizzare task of running the net between his fingers that he hadn't noticed Misha yet. It gave Misha an opportunity to observe his friend for a while and finally get a good look at the whole of him.

Jensen was frowning hard but it couldn't hide the fact that he had a sweet, freckled face, currently covered with a bit of scruff, which was something new to Misha and well, also something truly interesting. He was sitting in a slightly curled up position, his tank top stretched over his back as he leaned forward to do whatever he was doing and Misha silently thanked all the gods for warm weather, even though he was close to boiling in that long-sleeved shirt he couldn't quite take off. Jensen didn't have Misha's problems though and his arms were finally fully visible in their whole colourful glory.

On the right one there were these roses Misha had already had a glimpse of before, they seemed to just reach the shoulder and then descend along the clavicle onto Jensen's pec. On the left arm though, was something even more intriguing. The background seemed to be a flowerless rose bush created with rich, dark tones of green, between the leaves sat a magpie holding one, crimson flower in her beak, her black eye strangely daring the observer to stop her. Misha had no doubt there was a story behind this one.

After a while, during which his presence wasn't noted, he considered leaving Jensen alone with his work but just then the man raised his head and spotted Misha just standing there like a major creep.  
"Oh, hi." he said, smiling somewhat absently.  
"Hello." Misha really tried not to blush from embarassment. "Uhm, nice to see you in the morning for a change." that was not by any means smooth, dammit. "I mean, it's unexpected. I thought you would be gone fishing." he shrugged awkwardly; _Zero game, Collins._ he mentally slapped himself.  
"We'd been." Jensen smirked and focused on his net again. "The catch was surprisingly big so we could return earlier. It's my turn to check on the net, that's why I'm still here."  
"Can I help?" Misha offered without even thinking it through.  
Jensen looked at him with surprise. "Have you done that before?"  
"No but I'm pretty handy and I learn fast." Misha smiled as Jensen looked intrigued.

"Handy, huh?"he patted a spot beside him so Misha sat down, their arms almost touching.  
"I'm a carpenter." Misha said as Jensen showed him what to look for and where he should attach new parts of the net in case anything needed replacement.  
"Really?" Jensen glanced at him, his eyes twinkling impishly.  
"Yeah, I've basically constructed my own house." Misha actually felt good being able to boast a little. "So if you're ever in need for a new one..." he stopped examining a knot and looked into Jensen's eyes.  
"I'll know who to call." Jensen's smile grew wider and warmer, wrinkles forming in the corners of his eyes; he was so adorable Misha wanted to hug him like the teddy bear he was.

A moment had passed before they slowly returned to working in a silence. Once Misha got hold of his task, it was going surprisingly smoothly for him. If it only weren't so damn hot, it would be all pleasure to sit there and help Jensen. He knew he could be more chill about his... problem, other people were, but he just wasn't ready yet. He was not ready to show his scars to the world. And to Jensen, not quite yet.

And so he sat in his long-sleeved shirt in the sun that possibly aimed to melt him down into a puddle of miserable Mishagoo. Jensen, the caring guy he was, of course, couldn't have missed that.  
"Aren't you a little hot?" he asked.  
"Nah, I'm good." Misha shook his head, obviously well aware that the sweat was all over his forehead, dripping down his temples, even though they were just sitting there.  
"I can lend you a t-shirt, if you don't have one with you." oh, wow, Misha actually didn't know how to respond to such thoughtfulness; Jensen offered this in case he was too embarassed to ask himself. If only that was the deal...  
"Thanks, man, I have a tee with me." Misha smiled sincerely and Jensen frowned a little, a hint of worry in his eyes. "I'm just... eternally cold."  
Jensen eyed him carefully and probably could see the obvious lie there but, God bless him, he chose not to push any further.  
"Well, in that case..." he said, looking maybe a little hurt but obviously trying to hide it not to make Misha feel guilty.  
"Hey." Misha placed a palm on his shoulder. "I really am okay." he stated adamantly, determined to make Jensen feel better.

Their gazes met and Misha realised that this time Jensen couldn't read any lies in his eyes since there were none. He was absurdly hot but this was honestly a non-exsistent problem in comparison to the ones he had experienced recently. Had had because in that moment he truly was **okay**. It still wasn't a permament fix, he was well aware of that, but in moments like this he could already taste it, sense the happiness he longed for. And he really was okay.

Slowly the concern disappeared from Jensen's eyes and Misha allowed himself to smile minutely. He earned a mirrored smile in return. For a while they sat just like that, smiling at each other, Misha's palm on Jensen's shoulder, right above the magpie's head, until he took his hand away and the direct connection disappeared. The silence was pleasant yet again and Misha found himself more adjusted to the heat now.

From time to time he would glance at Jensen as they continued their work and be amazed by every new detail he noticed. In Jensen's case his external beauty truly matched the one of his soul, Misha could feel his heart swell pleasantly at the thought. He had never met anyone so extraordinary and yet so perfectly unaware of their exceptionality. He couldn't hide the awe as he looked at him and eventually Jensen caught him stare.

"What?" he asked, blushing at what was so clear in Misha's eyes. "I know, I forgot to shave." he turned his gaze away shyly. "I'll do so as soon as we're back home."  
Misha barely managed not to shiver at Jensen's use of 'we' and 'home' in one sentence. "Don't you dare." he said; it sounded like a warning and made Jensen look back at him.  
"Excuse me?" he frowned.  
"Don't you dare shave." Misha chuckled and then, only after a second of hesitation, patted Jensen's cheek only halfly jokingly. "Looks good on you."  
"You think so?" Jensen was crimson red now, lowering his gaze.  
"Absolutely." Misha nodded enthusiastically, savouring the soft feel of Jensen's skin and the stinging touch of his facial hair.  
He could get used to these sensations.

***

As they finished checking the net, they rolled it neatly and Jensen took it up onto his ship to store it there. Misha was obviously curious about the boat so he followed him onto the deck. Jensen laughed that this wasn't a luxurious yacht worth sightseeing, nevertheless he showed him around, explained who worked where and how they functioned during their cruises. Misha seemed to be mesmerised by everything he was saying, giving him his undivided attention and Jensen felt oddly flattered, faint blush colouring his cheeks as Misha absorbed his words carefully. He was also a bit embarassed that the whole deck smelled of fish, that he himself probably also smelled that way but Misha didn't seem to mind, which was equally weird and gratyfying. It looked as if Misha knew exactly how much his job and Icarus meant to Jensen and tried to see them the way he did, understand what made him love his way of living.

It was so easy to think of Misha as of his friend, a person who truly understood him and didn't judge, someone he could let down his guard with. The thought of sharing his secrets was tempting; he wanted to see if he was right, thinking that Misha of all people could understand how he screwed everything over in babysteps to still miraculously end up in this place, where, as he learned just recently, he could maybe dare to reach for happiness. Something was telling him that Misha's eyes wouldn't be full of disgust nor, even worse, pity, that he would ask about only one thing - if he did love. Jensen would answer in the affirmative and then... then say that he was ready to love again.

***

Misha adored the way Jensen's whole being lit up as he talked about the sea, his work and his friends he sailed with. Misha actually decided he would like to hang out with these dudes Jensen told him about; they sounded fun, especially that Tristan one, another unfortunate member of the fancy names club, but what was more important - Jensen genuinely liked them, which was enough to get a seal of approval from Misha too.

They lingered around a little, Misha enjoying himself in the new environment and enjoying the way he could make Jensen laugh, pretending to be 'Tough Captain Ackles' behind the steering wheel, putting on an imaginary cap and glaring in the distance, foreseeing a storm 'merciless as balls'.

Jensen also showed him the control panel, eagerly explaining the meaning behind the icons and numbers. Misha didn't memorise much of his talk, concentrated more on the way Jensen hovered over him, pressed to his back, his left arm effortlessly finding a resting place on Misha's shoulder. Misha wondered if Jensen was even aware of what he was doing, making Misha want to lean back against him, touch him as much as possible because damn, if Jensen didn't feel good, so steady and comforting in his rightful place by Misha's side. It was a sweet torture, not being able to pull him closer as it still wasn't clear enough, if that was what Jensen aimed for. Misha would be okay with any kind of relationship Jensen wanted though, he just needed him close.

It wasn't until they were climbing off the ship, when he realised he had had a plan to prepare the dinner as a surprise. Well, a solo cooking gig had to wait then, cooking with Jensen wasn't a bad prospect either. He smirked to himself, remembering the previous afternoon.  
"What now?" asked Jensen, seeing the change in his expression.  
"Nothing." Misha looked into his eyes and smiled a little wider as Jensen blushed upon seeing a mischievous sparkle in Misha's baby blues. "I just thought about the dinner."  
"Oh, we gotta buy something first..." it made Jensen fidget a little, as if it was something embarassing.  
"Yeah." Misha nodded, still staring right into his soul. "And then we'll prepare something delicious. Together."  
He really, really enjoyed making Jensen blush.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys! I know it took me long enough to post this but I was in a really bad place recently and just couldn't write so I'm sorry for that. I hope I'll be in better mood next week and the posting will take me significantly less time.  
> L.

The music always sounds different at night. Soft notes hanging in the air woke Misha up like a delicate touch on the cheek and for a while he just laid there, listening but only partly hearing, lost in the moment. It was well past midnight and to hear something like this in that village was so unexpected, he for a while was sure he was still asleep.

As he eventually stuck his head out of the tent, he noticed the lights coming from the window, shining from between the almost closed curtains and he felt a little thrill, knowing that something unusal was going on. He just had to check it out, even if it all was just a dream.

The music, just like the light, was coming from the house so he silently sneaked in, careful not to make any sound while opening and closing the door. As he stood there, in Jensen's kitchen, he realised it wasn't just a loud record playing. Someone was plucking the strings of a real guitar, raw and wonderful, alive in their hands. Misha followed the luring call and found himself at the door to Jensen's room, the one he hadn't been in before. They were left ajar, allowing him to peek inside and find no one else but his friend sitting there and completely lost in his world of sound.

Jensen's eyes were closed, fingers surely dancing over the fretboard as the eerie melody enrolled, evolved from singular hesitant notes to richer chords only to fall back into to the background as Jensen opened his mouth and [sung.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vjncyiuwwXQ)

 _Down by the river by the boats_  
_Where everybody goes to be alone_  
_Where you won't see any rising sun_  
_Down to the river we will run_  
  
_When by the water we drink to the dregs_  
_Look at the stones on the river bed_  
_I can tell from your eyes_  
_You've never been by the riverside_  
  
_Down by the water the riverbed_  
_Somebody calls you somebody says_  
_swim with the current and float away_  
_Down by the river everyday_

Misha was sure he knew that song. He may have heard it in another lifetime, sung by a different voice and he couldn't remember where or how but the memory was there. It didn't matter if it had been during good or bad times though because now the old meaning of the lyrics and harmonies played by different instrument back then faded away replaced by the gentleness of Jensen's rich voice and the careful, yet fully intuitive movement of his fingers.

 _Oh my God I see how everything is torn in the river deep_  
_And I don't know why I go the way_  
_Down by the riverside_

Jensen wasn't creating the sound, the song wasn't his creation; he was the one being created, the tones slowly building up who he truly was behind that perfectly sculpted mask Misha only suspected the man was wearing. The difference between this Jensen and the one he had been in the light of the day was so subtle that it became obvious only now that Misha really looked. Like a lace in perfectly attuned nude colour covering the skin. It was there, intricately constructed only to be distinguished by the eyes that know what to look for. Misha wished his own facade was like this, barely visible, barely there but still protecting all the fear, holding him together, hiding the cracks.

_When that old river runs pass your eyes_   
_To wash off the dirt on the riverside_   
_Go to the water so very near_   
_The river will be your eyes and ears_

_I walk to the borders on my own_   
_To fall in the water just like a stone_   
_Chilled to the marrow in them bones_   
_Why do I go here all alone_

The song went on and Jensen was lost in it, filled by it, uncovered. Misha wanted to go, felt he had to go but he couldn't because he wanted to see Jensen like this, hear him sing his heart out and slip his own emotions between the lines of someone else's lyrics as if he was the one who wrote them. It was too honest, too bare and powerful for Misha to witness, to just stand there. He wished the music could mean just as much to him, could let him be free just like it allowed Jensen to. From time to time, everyone had to take their mask off and breathe.

***

Jensen couldn't really sleep that night. He had a lot to think about and somehow these thoughts always returned to revolving around Misha. That man was like a major plot twist in the story of his life and even though people tend to dislike changes, Jensen loved every second of it.  L o v e d.

It was too late to even try deceiving himself; if he wanted to run away from this, the right time for the escape had been the moment Misha entered Jim's restaurant. And that moment was obviously long gone. What came next didn't happen in a day; it was growing stronger steadily, step by step but like an avalanche it was unstoppable once the first few flakes rolled down the hill, inconspicous like the tiny droplets of rain falling from Misha's wet hair and clothes onto the clean wooden floor.

It had crashed down upon him but surprisingly enough, it didn't make it harder to breathe. On the contrary, it just made it easier to understand what it means to live as opposed to vegetating. Vegetation was just being, while living was fighting to become something more every day. And to be more meant to find what one craved the most. For Jensen it meant to love again. Or maybe realise that it meant actually to love for the first time.

Jensen didn't want to fight those thoughts, he barely considered trying to force himself not to think. He felt it was the way his life was just meant to go; it was the where he would end up anyway, even if he had made a different decision many years ago. He was sure that in every alternate world he had lived in long enough for this day to find him breathing, this moment of understanding looked exactly the same. No matter what Jensen had or hadn't done, this minute was meant to be the one where in that short pause between two ticks of the clock he realised he was falling in love with Misha.

And then the time resumed it's flow and he took another breath, while the world didn't go down in flames. It was just a point in time where his eyes opened enough to see what was already going on in his mind and heart. This process still wasn't complete, needed maybe a minute or maybe a year more but either way it was not something reversable. And it was not something that Jensen would like to reverse.

His only confusion came from the fact that he fully got it only just now, when it grew so bold he would have to be blind not to see it as it was directly shoved into his face. Could Misha see it so clearly too? Jensen wasn't able to answer that question and he knew that without asking directly, there was no chance he would ever be. He was afraid to ask though because getting an answer would be inevitable then and part of him was better off not knowing. However, that was just the part that he had already spent too much time trying to present to people as who he really was. That's why he sung. He sung to free himself, prove that there was more to him, that he was a man who was ready to know and ready to let himself be known.

_Down by the riverside_

***

When the song has come to an end, Misha thought it would be the right moment to be released from the spell that trapped him standing in that doorway. However, the magic didn't go away, the fear and guilt didn't kick in, didn't make him hold his breath and take the most silent step back.

In fact, when the last note resounded in the air, last word was long gone from between Jensen's lips, he felt blank. Like a fresh page just pulled out of the drawer and lying before an artist still undecided what to put down on it. Misha was waiting to feel. And then Jensen's eyes fell on him. They were bright and innocent, as if he was uncertain the sight before him was real, in a way not ready to accept that it was but also partly disbelieving it could be something more than a wish or a dream. Limbo, though, is a kind of state that hates to last too long because both nature and humans can't stand uncertainty.

"Mish?" whispered Jensen, as if fearing the man before him could disappear were the sound louder.  
"I'm sorry, Jen." said Misha, leaning decidely back, indicating he thought he didn't have the right to be there.  
"Wait!" Jensen reached towards him from above his guitar.  
"You play beautiful music." Misha's expression softened. "But I shouldn't..."  
"You can." Jensen stated and since he really meant it, just like that all the pieces fell into their rightful places.  
Misha could.

Step by step he entered the room, slowly but without hesitation. The air was different there, possibly not shared with another human in a long time. Misha breathed Jensen in, him and his whole life built in this tiny village from a scratch. The room wasn't big, wasn't what he imagined it to be but strangely enough, Misha felt at home here. In the farthest corner were spiral stairs, leading up to what must have been Jensen's bedroom since this certainly wasn't where he slept in. Misha took in the small chimney with no photos above it, the shelves that held only books. And roses. All kinds of them, big and small buds, all dry, preserved carefully like the dearest memories. They laid on top of the bookcases and cupboards, neatly piled, put down with love and tenderness. Misha noticed all of them, took his time to see everything that was there for him to see and Jensen blushed as if he knew there were too many but couldn't change that, wouldn't.

As Misha finished his initial examination, his sight eventually zeroed in on Jensen, who just sat quietly and let him see. Maybe he was waiting for Misha to judge but Misha didn't mean to do that, he didn't mean to say a word, in fact. He took another step forward, closing in on Jensen, and gently reached for his guitar to take it from his hands. His sight slid along the smooth curves of the instrument and then returned to Jensen as he put the guitar down gently to remove it from between them. He couldn't stop looking into Jensen's eyes for long anyway; they were pulling him back in, closer and closer every time until they were everything he could see, outshining all the stars of the universe. And maybe Jensen would wear his mask in the morning again but in that moment he was just so perfectly himself that given that Misha couldn't resist him even when he was hiding, no wonder he just couldn't hold back as he was right there before him in his full, shy yet unashamed glory.

Knowing he could never regret this, Misha leaned forward past the point of no return and kissed those slightly parted lips that always smiled so sweetly.  
Their eyes fell shut and for a while it all just lasted in silence, chaste but full of not so completely innocent emotion palpable in the lazy flicks of tongues just beginning to explore, barely mapping the outlines of what was ther to find.

As Misha pulled back, for a split second Jensen chased after him before he realised that this step had been taken and this moment had passed. There were some question in his wide open eyes that Misha could only answer with an affectionate, soft smile.

"It's really late." Misha's voice was a low hum.  
"I know." the answer was simple and calm.  
"Thank you." Misha caressed his cheek and smiled wider, small wrinkles appearing in the corners of his eyes, his expression so loving, he would still be afraid to wear it in the light of day.  
"I'm the one that should be thanking." Jensen's smile mirrored his, full of warmth they were both becoming addicted to.

Misha couldn't help placing a small goodnight kiss on his lips. And then, just like always, he slid out of Jensen's space to go the way he was supposed to go, to make this memory into a sweet dream.

Only when he reached the doorway, his steps muffled by the fluffy carpet, he heard Jensen silently call after him.  
"Mish... Do you wanna..." he begun. "Do you want to maybe go to the sea with me?" he finished his question as Misha stopped to look back at him.  
"I do." Misha said softly.

And maybe this answered more questions than just this one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jensen sings ["Riverside" by Agnes Obel](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vjncyiuwwXQ) (link the same as the one in the text)  
> I am obsessed with this song, sue me.


	7. Chapter 7

This hour was definitely not meant for normal human beings to be conscious at. Misha groaned loudly, trying to land his ass down on the chair without missing it, while his eyes were still not entirely open. Or rather, completely shut. Oserving his attempts, Jensen chuckled from above the sandwiches he was making.

"How can you even function right now?" once he was seated, Misha leaned his head back against the wall. "You cheerful motherfucker..."  
The torment in his voice made Jensen laugh even harder. "I'm used to it." he said. "You're not and man, that's actually kinda adorable."  
"Shut up." Misha grumbled, glad that his face was still pinkish from the sleep and he couldn't blush that much. "You went to sleep three hours ago. Just as I did."  
"Maybe I just had a good night?" Jensen grinned and pushed a full plate towards him. "Would be a good idea to eat something, landlubber, you'll need your strength."  
"You'll make me work?" Misha opened one puffy eye to look at him; Jensen looked shamelessly fresh.  
"Wouldn't want you to get bored." he smiled impishly. "Besides, it would be a shame not to put these skillful hands to work."

At that Misha finally smiled. He was about to spend a whole day with Jensen and participate in the work he loves, how the hell he could even for a moment be grumpy if he had such a perspective before him?  
Also the eerie memories of their surreal music night begun slowly coming back as the smell of fresh coffee reached his nostrils and for a while he just stared at Jensen in awe. Was any of this real? Did this actually happen? Given that he was awoken to join the fishermen, at least one last bit of their yesterday-slash-today's conversation took place. The kisses were so divine though that he couldn't quite wrap his head around the concept that they weren't just another realistic dream. Judging from the way the tips of Jensen's ears turned red underneath Misha's gaze, he would risk guessing that even if it was just a fantasy of a dormant brain, they at least fantasized about the same thing.  
Jensen licked his lips absently. Yeah, they definitely thought alike.

"So..." Misha grunted but was immediately interrupted as the coffee machine announced that the brew was ready.  
Jensen stood up and poured them two mugs. The scent of the coffee itself was intense but the taste was even stronger, richer and yet not too bitter; in fact, it tasted like condensed energy. Misha felt momentarily more awake.  
"So..." he begun once again. "When do we leave?"  
"As soon as you finish your meal." Jensen closed his eyes and took a long sip, humming silently. "You don't have to hurry though. We won't leave the haven until after dawn anyway. Our early appearance can only make preparations faster and easier for the whole crew."  
"You're the captain, right? You can come last?" Misha gestured with his halfly eaten sandwich.  
"Yes. But you know" Jensen chuckled. "In case something happens I'm also the last one to leave." he winked playfully but Misha felt his throat tighten a little.

He couldn't even thing about something happening, about Jensen not coming back, taken by the ocean that he loved so dearly. He smiled as if he found his words hilarious but to him it wasn't funny, at all. In fact, now as the issue was brought to light, he had this sudden urge to come up with something, anything to keep Jensen from leaving the port. It was ridiculous but he suddenly was at the verge of a full blown panic attack.  
Jensen's face dropped a little as if he could sense that deep inside Misha was full-on shrieking in terror and plotting to tie him to the chair not to let him go outside.

"Hey..." he said, reaching to place his hand on Misha's arm. "Don't worry, Icarus is perfectly safe. We've survived storms we shouldn't have lived through and the weather today will be beautiful. We'll return home in one piece, I promise." he smiled softly.  
Misha slowly let out a breath he had been holding for far too long.

***

"Hey-o, captain! Who's that cutie?" were the first words Misha heard upon entering the deck. They came out of a mouth belonging to a lady with pixie-cut, celadon hair who just must have been the mysterious K. from Jensen's stories.  
"Mornin', sunshine." Jensen grinned and then glanced at Misha, winking playfully. "Misha, K. K, Misha." he introduced them.  
K. extended her arm and as Misha gripped her palm carefully, she squeezed his hand hard, almost making him whimper aloud.  
"Not quite a delicate flower." she smirked, even though this clearly was a warning.  
"Noted." Misha took a deep breath, making Jensen laugh sincerely.

"What's the rumpus, Shackles?" lured out by the noise, a pair of heads arose from below the deck, two men curiously eyeing the scene.  
"Tristan and Olsie." Jensen posted at respectable faces.  
Tristan really turned out to be freakishly tall and Misha immediately had a feeling that man could be equally as much fun as a pain in the ass at the same time; there was something deliciously impish about him. Olsie, on the other hand, was completely devilish, judging by the sparkle in his eye. That crew was something else.

"Where are Robbie and Dick?" asked Jensen after a short mandatory introduction.  
"Probably morning sex." snorted K. without any malice.  
Jensen just rolled his eyes. "Right." he said. "Listen, Mish, I gotta make sure our radio's alright and our papers are in order so you stay here for a while, take a look around, help if you're asked to, okay? I'll be back soon."  
"Of course." Misha smiled; maybe he was a walking mess of self-doubt but strangely enough, he wasn't socially awkward at most times.  
"We'll keep an eye on him, chief." said Olsie with a shit-eating grin on his face.  
"That's what I'm afraid of." muttered Jensen as he glanced one more time at Misha before leaving him on their mercy. K. chuckled.

***

By the time they were leaving the haven, Misha was pretty much best friends with everyone. Robbie and Dick turned out to be a cute, dorky couple, K. was his favourite person in the world, he knew to watch out for Tristan, and he could already sense that Olsie was just itching to tell him his best perverted stories about other's presumably dark pasts. Olsie begun with hinting that Tristan was using a fake name and hiding from the police. Misha laughed it off, of course, but as K. suggested there might be a pinch of truth in Olsie's "balderdash", he looked more offish at the never faltering smug smirk of Tristan.  
No matter how nice everyone seemed though, he didn't feel fully comfortable without Jensen by his side. K. was just his second best choice of company.

A massive wave of relief washed over him as Jensen finally came out of the wheelhouse and leaving the task of maintaining the course to Olsie, joined him to help K. prepare the net for a catch. Misha smiled at him and found himself immediately trapped by his eyes, staring as if the world surroudning them was of lesser import. They paid hardly any attention to K. snorting yet again and rolling her eyes. Only Tristan's booming voice could bring them back around.

"Jay, your boyfriend is afraid of me!" the giant whined loudly, approaching them and making a very unhappy face.  
Misha blushed furiously, still looking at Jensen who was visibly distressed by that statement. For a while they were both silently stewing in their juices, embarassed to the bone.  
"He's not..." Jensen begun and stuttered; Misha felt his heart sink. "He's not afraid." Jensen's breath hitched as he realised he didn't deny Misha being his boyfriend, after all. "Are you, Mish?"  
"Absolutely not!" Misha promised solemnly, a huge grin spreading across his face.  
Tristan looked between them suspiciously but in the end seemed content with the answer.  
"Olsie's stories." prompted K., smiling to herself knowingly.  
"Right." Tristan rolled his eyes. "I'll kick his ass as soon as our lives stop depending on him keeping the wheel in place."

K. responded to that with something witty but Misha didn't really hear her words as he locked gazes with Jensen again. Jensen smiled sheepishly, Misha smiled back.  
_Boyfriend._ he thought. _I can work with that._

***

It certainly felt different, like a pleasant breeze of fresh air. Misha was on the board and everything changed so smoothly as if he had been missing for a while and now came back to reclaim his rightful place. Everything about that day felt surprisingly right. Jensen looked at the grayish plain of the ocean, low waves marked with stripes of foam, peaceful as if it had been bridled. That impression was, of course, deceptive. The ocean couldn't be tamed and Jensen suspected it would never be, no matter how advanced in bending the laws of nature would humans become. It was somehow reassuring to know that at least these waters would forever remain wild and free.

"I see why you love it." the silent voice didn't make Jensen startle like it probably should; he kind of expected Misha to appear in that moment, fill up the empty space by his side. "It's impeccable, that's why." Misha continued. "It's just the way it was when it first formed and will always be like that. People hate changes, oceans just never do them."  
Jensen leaned a bit towards him as he stepped closer. He could feel the heat of Misha's body on his arm and side.  
"Sometimes we need to change." he said, staring at the blurred line of the horizon; the gray sky was almost indistinguishable from the water.  
"We do." Misha sounded thoughtful. "We would be more keen on changing, if we could tell for sure that it's for the better."  
"This one is." finally Jensen turned to look at him, into his eyes. "I'm sure of it."

For a moment they just shared the silence, lulled by the waves rocking the ship, the sound of water splashing against the broadsides. Misha's lips slowly bent into a tiny smile as he muttered "I'm sure of it too."

***

"You haven't really voiced your opinion yet." Jensen stated as he put the fork down onto his now empty plate. "How did you like it?"  
Misha let out a long sigh. "I'm... I'm tired." he looked at Jensen, smiling lazily. "And I smell of fish despite the shower. But I enjoyed that, I really did. And I still do enjoy this day very much. Thank you, Jensen."  
"I'm glad to hear that and you know, you don't need to keep thanking." Jensen waved it off as a no big deal.  
"It means a lot to me though." Misha waited for him to raise his head and look into his eyes. "You should know that. Everything you do for me means a lot."  
Jensen blushed at that statement and rubbed his nape nervously.

He really was modest, didn't take compliments or gratitude as something usual so he probably had never received a lot of those. Misha wondered how on Earth that could happen. Jensen was so perfect he should have been praised every day, shown how much love he deserved. All Misha wanted to say were seven words, or maybe even just three because he was more and more certain with every passing day that they would be the truth that Jensen had to hear. And yet he couldn't do that. He couldn't quite get himself to somehow make Jensen feel obliged to respond in kind because even if Jensen would really mean that, would think it true, he just couldn't know since he didn't know Misha. He didn't know the worst, darkest bits and even though Misha hoped Jensen wouldn't mind them, allowed himself to believe in that, he just couldn't leave it for after taking the next step. And so he was stuck because he wasn't sure he was ready to risk everything so soon.

Misha felt like a liar, even though Jensen had never directly asked for the truth, never forced him to protect his secrets at the cost of his trust. And while he was thankful for that, there were moments he wished Jensen would just push him into telling the story, telling him why exactly he ended up in the place he was currently in. Without Jensen asking, Misha had to gather the courage on his own and it took time, so much time. He just hoped that not too much.  
These thoughts made him trail off for a while and he barely noticed Jensen whispering a soft "Thanks."

Suddenly Misha felt very old and tired. "I think I'll hit the sack now." he said after a moment.  
"Good idea, sure." Jensen smiled. "I take it, you won't appreciate me waking you up so early tomorrow?"  
"How could you know that?" Misha snorted.  
"Sixth sense." he earned a cocky wink in response. "So we'll see each other at the dinner then?" there was a lot of shy hope in Jensen's voice and Misha felt a familiar warmth spread in his chest.  
"If you still aren't bored with my scruffy mug..." Misha's crooked smile immediately made Jensen grin only wider.  
"I'll never be." he admitted sincerely. Too sincerely. For a second he just froze and then the heat creeped up onto his cheeks, indicating a higher level of embarassment.  
Misha felt his heart melt. "I really hope so." he whispered.

His lip trembled a little as he leaned over the table and kissed Jensen delicately, close mouth on close mouth, all so affectionate and innocent in his willingness to show he was moved by that confession. Jensen was dumbstruck yet again. He closed his eyes, letting Misha kiss him the way he wished to, parting his lips ever so slightly, showing he would take only what was willingly given to him. It lasted only a moment, Misha's hand cupping his cheek, caressing his skin, but they both basked in it treasuring every shared beat of their hearts. And then Misha smiled, backing away in no hurry.

"Have a good night, Jensen." he muttered, his voice low and full of contentment.  
"Yeah." Jensen looked at him with widened eyes. "You too, Mish."  
His goofy, slightly confused grin appeared in all the sweet dreams that Misha had that night.


	8. Chapter 8

The next day begun pleasantly late for Misha. The sun was high up or well, it would be high up were not for the clouds. A thick grey layer looked even less friendly and fluffy than usual and Misha felt a pang of distant worry. Something was hanging in the air.

First thing he noticed as he entered the house was the fact that the door to Jensen's living room was left ajar. It wasn't a straightforward invitation for him to sniff around and stick his nose into Jensen's business but it was an indication that he wasn't unwelcome either. Jensen accepted him into a private part of his life. For few good minutes Misha just stared at that door, feeling a lump form in his throat.

Making a physical move on Jensen before sharing the more important bits on himself was kind of a jerk, manipulative thing to do but Jensen seemed to understand that somehow and accept whatever unfortunate ideas or plans Misha could have. It was all too good to be true. He still had a chance to come out clean with all his internalized problems that brought him there in the first place and he had to act on it before he could chose to act on other instincts first yet again. He didn't dare to form a complete and final thought even just in his mind but the decisions in a way had already been made.

Firstly, he finally had an occasion to cook that dinner for the two of them. Secondly, he had to at least start warming up Jensen to the topic of past, present and possible future. Not that his vacation was coming to an end anytime soon but he felt like actually discussing the choices with someone who wasn't Vicky, who didn't know him through and through but would care anyway. After many years of dealing with his problems, he knew that the most important cure was love and attention, the knowledge that someone had his back. And while his wife was a stable and everpresent source of that support, he sometimes needed to feel that someone who had met him already broken could love him just the same. He hoped Jensen could be one of these people.

***

After the usual Jensen-made breakfast, Misha begun his day with a shopping trip. He wanted to prepare something tasty but not requiring an exact timing given Jensen's irregular, unpredictable schedule. Having gone through a mental list of suitable dishes, he decided to go with omelettes. He had always loved them; one could go crazy with the ideas there. He and Vicky once had this competition, where they had to come to as many eatable variations as they could. She had won, of course, but only by two with Misha coming up with twenty five ideas. Then they had held an omelette party for all their friends and everyone hated them so much afterwards, good times.   
Misha smiled to himself at the memories. After the things with Jensen clear up and everything becomes stable, Vicky needs to come and help him stuff the whole Icarus crew with their fried goods. Here they could go wild with a sea fruit/fishy edition, Tristan and the rest would never look at the omelettes in the same way. Yeah, an omelette-off would definitely be fun.

His thoughts full of cheerful culinary visions, he walked down the main street, paying hardly any attention to people running around in their gardens in what seemed to be a panicked rush. If he noticed them, he would probably just frown and go his way anyway. That was, of course, until the wind got up. The first powerful blow almost swiped him off his feet and made him gasp for the next breath. Strong and sudden, it came like a perfectly aimed fist, punching him right in the chest. And then the first drops of rain fell down. The shower started impishly slowly as if calling the wind on its indelicacy. Misha picked up the pace but made a mistake of putting off a run for the latest possible moment and a downpour of tropical proportion caught him still pretty far from the house. In less than few seconds he was soaking wet and silently hoping that his plastic bag at least protected the products he had bought.

As he entered the house at last, he jumped straight into the bathroom not to let the water drip from his clothes and pool on the clean floor. He suspected it could fill up a regular bath, if he wrung them out precisely. A hot shower was his priority so the whole set of sudden problems hit him only after he was done, his skin pleasantly pinkish and dry as if the world wasn't such a bad place at the moment. However, it was pretty close to hell actually since, first of all, every dry piece of clothing he owned was currently in his tent, probably not so dry anymore and separated from him by a solid wall of wild rainstorm, secondly, he had to touch that cold and soaked plastic bag at some point in the future, and last but not least, a thunder had just rumbled outside, shaking the walls of the little house, which meant that there was an actual storm going on and Jensen was not home yet.

 _It's early for their return._ thought Misha, trying to calm himself down as a lighting lit up the grey sky. _But they probably saw it coming, hell, they surely saw it coming and chose to come back anyway. He's probably hiding somewhere around the port and waiting for the rain to stop. No reason to panic, really, Jensen is a professional, they all are, they know the ocean, know how to survive. He'll be back soon enough and you'll laugh together at your fear._

Misha would be pretty close to convincing himself, if not for the blind, flaming panic raising up in his gut, twisting his stomach and making his throat tighten up. Jensen's words were still echoing in his head _"We survived storms we shouldn't have lived through." "I also leave last."_ They were like a poison spreading across his body, paralising him. He fought the urge to curl up in the corner and shriek in terror, really trying to remain strong and not entirely useless.

Ignoring the bag that managed to turn the carpet into an overflowing sponge, he run to Jensen's room, denied himself a right to feel guilty about his invasion, and climbed up the stairs into the bedroom to find himself some dry clothes. Sure as hell he shouldn't have entered that room without a direct permission but there was no time to be ashamed or do any illegal sightseeing. Trying not to make too much mess, he digged through few drawers and quickly geared up in some plain boxers, worn out jeans and Batman t-shirt. He grabbed also a big sweater and a raincoat on his way out. Jensen had slightly smaller feet than Misha did so his rain boots were a bit tight but Misha didn't care. He run towards the haven as if the devil himself was chasing him.

***

The worst thing Misha had experienced in his life was probably seeing an empty space where Icarus should have been moored. He felt his legs go weak but somehow managed to keep himself upright and walking. Walking towards a shilhouette standing as far on the pier as it could not risking being taken by the oncoming waves.

It was Jim, waiting there in the heavy rain, ignoring the wind that was trying to tear his cape off his shoulders and throwing cold, stinging droplets into his eyes. Misha almost fell down onto his knees, seeing that this man, who must have seen a lot of awful storms and terrible things that the ocean had done, this man was definitely barely holding it together, his face twisted in a terrifying grimace.  
"Idiots." he said. "They are all damned idiots. My kids but still so stupid."  
Misha wanted to grab him by his shoulders, shake him hard and throw him into the yeasty water just to feel he was doing something, anything. He also really wanted to scream.  
"They will be back." he said instead as if he wasn't falling apart from the inside because what was left but trying to avoid breaking down.  
"Hope is a cruel mistress and yet she's always welcome." muttered Jim, shaking his head. "We people are masochists."  
He sounded almost calm, his mechanism of coping probably much more effective than Misha's.

The line of horizon was even more blurred than usual, rain just as grey as everything around there. The wind was somehow piercing right through all the layers Misha had put on and soon he was shaking from the cold and from the fear equally. He couldn't even think of Jensen really not coming back this time. There must have been something like a limit of misfortune for a year and Misha had definitely used it all up before he had come into this tiny village. It would be unfair if he had everything taken from him just now, it would destroy him for good. There was nothing and no one on this whole planet that could help him live through that loss; without Jensen there was no future for him now. Without Jensen living would make no sense.

Misha stared at the raging ocean until his eyes begun to hurt and then a while longer. He crossed his arms, keeping them close to his body, nuzzling his face down into the collar of the sweater hidden underneath his rain coat, breathing in the smell of Jensen and silently praying to all the gods that could hear him for his man to come back. And then he heard a car approach.

It was a police van, an ominous figure made from metal and a sense of inevitability. Jim's face had already been pale from the cold but now what was left of blood there floated away.  
"News." he whispered as if Misha couldn't guess that himself.  
They both froze, completely unable to move, waiting for the final verdict as a thunder rumbled to mark the moment the car stopped at the end of the road.

Millennia had passed before the back door of the car clicked open and out of the gloomy void of the van stepped no one else but Jensen himself. This time Misha's knees gave up and he leaned heavily onto Jim who wasn't holding up much better. Jensen spotted them and smiled, radiant as the sun itself.  
"This motherfucker..." muttered Misha, feeling a massive wave of relief wash over him, glue him together and build him up anew, power up his weak limbs.  
He reached for that newfound source of strenght and then he run.

He run as fast as much he had been scared just a moment before. He didn't care for the rain wetting his hair as his hood slid down onto his shoulders from the impetus, he didn't care for the tears blurring his vision, making his nose start to run. He jumped onto Jensen, into his arms, and kissed him hard and fast, cold lips hurting from the impact. He kissed Jensen's whole face, his dumb cheeks, foolish freckles and idiotic eyes, he didn't care that the people were watching. He was just happy that Jensen came back to hold him in his arms and nothing else mattered.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God, I am SO SORRY that it took so long but I was on holidays with my parents so you can guess the conditions weren't the best for writing and ugh I grew so lazy and I am just a horrible person in general so you have every right to hunt me down and suffocate the rest of this story out of me. Because yes, we're getting closer to the end and shit is about to hit the fan and then you will want to murder me even more but I promise this is gonna have a happy ending so bear with me, pretty please? And I know I am babbling but it's just a way to cover up all my embarassment so now I will just shut up and I hope this chapter will make you reconsider sharpening that axe *nervous laughter* I love you, you know that, right? *cue The Author locking herself up in the closet just in case*

In Misha's book waiting out the rain used to be one of the worst things a man could be forced to face. Yet this time he was ready to spend the rest of eternity here in that smelly hangar, while the storm reigned over the land outside, simply because Jensen was warm and alive next to him, breathing and laughing as if there had never been any threat to his life at all. Only the incredible softness in his eyes and a faint blush on his cheeks indicated that he was still amazed to discover that Misha cared about him so much, feared his death. He squeezed Misha's hand a little every time their gazes met.

They sat around on some old, overturned boats and makeshift benches with splinters stinging them through their clothes, the hangar providing a dry hiding for the worst moments of the storm. Tristan found a lot of pleasure in telling the dramatic story of them fighting the forces of nature, clearly adding a lot of gory details straight from the void of his vivid imagination. K. rolled her eyes, immediately slapping him down and explaining that they were simply closer to the next village to the north when they noticed the oncoming storm and sailed there, chosing not to risk not making it on time to their port.

Jim was all grumpy from the very beginning, obviously hiding his extreme relief and raising hell for them not calling earlier to at least say they had been alright. Robbie and Dick were defending the crew using the safety issues as an argument, cellphones dangerous to use in the storm, and Jim kept calling bullshit on them until a lightling hit a tree just outside the village and he abruptly fell silent.

Misha listened to them only with one ear as his attention was constantly being drawn back to Jensen. He still couldn't quite comprehend how close a call this had been.  
"I'm sorry I took your clothes." he whispered after a while. "Mine were soaked through and I didn't feel like running naked around your garden in that rain."  
Jensen eyed him warily and smirked discreetly. "And I was just wondering if I knew that sweater from somewhere. Looks good on you, I must say." he elbowed Misha playfully. "Finally something fashionable and fitting, no offence."  
"Smug little shit." Misha elbowed him back, grinning widely.  
"And yet you love me still." Jensen said jokingly.  
"Well, yeah, I do." was Misha's instinctive answer.  
Jensen momentarily stiffened and looked into Misha's suddenly wide open eyes. He took a deep breath.  
"I do too." he whispered.  
Slowly, matching goofy smiles appeared on both their faces as they kept staring at each other.

"Gross." snorted K. silently, smirking smugly and holding her hand out to Olsie, waiting for the twenty she had just won.

***

An hour had passed lazily without any visible improvement on the weathery front. The exhaustion was slowly sinking in as the adrenaline burned out and one by one members of the crew begun yawning. Jensen's stomach rumbled loudly and he shifted awkwardly as if embarassed by the natural reactions of his own organism. He really was enjoying these quiet moments with Misha and his friends, even though he was a bit cold and hungry, and the bench he was sitting on wasn't anywhere near comfortable. Misha's hand in his felt so good though and the sight of him tucked in the borrowed clothes stirred something deep inside of his soul. He really didn't wish this moment to pass.

"I prepared the dinner." said Misha suddenly. "I mean, I bought everything and planned to cook upon your return but as you can probably guess everything went pretty much to shit because of this." he gestured vaguely towards the entrance and the ongoing rainstorm.  
"How about we run home then?" Jensen proposed, even though he wasn't really keen on getting wet.  
"I guess it won't get any better any time soon." Misha sighed.  
"I think so too. Let's get going then, shall we?" Jensen smiled encouragingly and patted Misha's thigh before standing up. "Guys" he turned to the rest. "We decided to go home, the dinner's waiting."  
"Dinner..." Dick sighed with melancholy.  
"Hey, he's right, waiting makes no fucking sense." said K. "We should all go."  
"And that's how yet again I'm gonna get wet because of you, kids." Jim groaned, hiding a little smile as he raised up.

For a moment the rustle of raincoats filled the hangar and soon one by one they begun their wild sprints in the rain. Jensen felt a fresh rush of adrenaline and laughed cheerfully as he and Misha linked hands, bracing themselves for what was about to come. Misha looked partly amused, partly determined, the whole remaining anxiety slowly leaving his body for good and as they stopped at the threshold, Jensen couldn't help pulling him closer and kissing him softly with a sheepish chastity.

Misha's cheeks were burning underneath Jensen's cold fingertips and it was all so surreal and amazing. Someone was shouting at them for blocking the way out but Jensen could only feel Misha, hear his hitched breaths and taste his eagerness, while these two short words 'I do' echoed in his head, clear as a bell. Misha loved him, which wasn't any less of a surprise, even though his actions had spoken volumes since almost the very beginning. Misha loved him and Jensen realised slowly but surely that he had never known love the way it could be. Only now he finally had a taste of what the real thing was and he decided to never ever let that go.

***

Misha had already managed to forget how cleansing a simple run could be. Back in the day when small, daily problems had been his worst enemies, he would run to escape them even for a little while. Now there was more of genuine happiness in every step that spattered around tiny drops of water. Jensen was running by his side and laughing like a loon. Everything was more than just alright.

For a while Misha had been sure he had screwed up admitting what he shouldn't have but in hindisght, it seemed like a right thing to do. Just as stopping Jensen by the gate leading to his garden and kissing him hard in the rain until a thunder rumbled dangerously close and hastened them inside. Misha was happy and finally sure that nothing and no one could take that away from him. He decided that a fine omlette would be a suitable dish to celebrate the day he would never forget.

***

The storm was not going to stop. The wind was howling against the walls of the tiny house, tearing at the trees and as the darkness fell completely, the very thought of going outside became more than just simply repulsing. Misha peeked throught the window with slight hesitation.  
"Stay the night." said Jensen silently, observing him look outside so awkwardly.  
"What?" Misha turned around to look at his flushed face; there might have been a little wine in the equation and he had to make sure he wasn't hearing things.  
"The sofa is all yours, just... don't go outside." Jensen clarified.  
"I don't think I..." Misha felt that familiar guilt of being treated with overwhelming kindness and generosity yet again.  
"Please." Jensen sounded a bit more desperate than it seemed relevant. "It's not safe to go outside. You wouldn't want me to go out even for a minute, would you?"  
"Yes." Misha had to agree. "But that's something else."  
"How is that possibly any different from everything that had already happened?" Jensen couldn't quite understand just yet.  
"It feels like... skipping one step. You can climb the stairs missing one and still make it safe to the top but it can be just enough to cause your fall either, you know?" Misha sighed, looking into his eyes. "I'm here, taking this place in your life and then taking some more and... I don't know, if I have the right just now. If it's fair of me to take so much, while I can't possibly fully realise what I am asking for and you don't understand how great a part you are giving. Once I stay here, I can't really leave ever again." his expression betrayed longing. "I've been clinically depressed half of my life or even longer, it kinda makes you more wary of things that can go wrong, when there are changes so big ahead." his voice sounded bitter as if he somehow regretted it had come to this.  
"You do realise I am just offering you a sofa, right?" Jensen didn't like Misha retreating into this shell of sadness, it wasn't something that was supposed to happen, it wasn't right; he had to do something and fortunately he knew exactly what that was - taking that step Misha thought he wished to skip. "However, if you wish, I think I can also offer you something more. A story. If you're only willing to listen."  
"You would do that?" Misha immediately stiffened, searching his eyes with disbelief. "Tell me about...?"  
"About the roses, yes. And something more." Jensen nodded and then took a deep breath, patting a spot by his side for Misha to sit down.

"I used to be an actor." he begun and noticed Misha shiver with sudden realisation but paid it no mind, focused on his memories. "I was young and ambitious. They've given me my first significant role, a part in a soap opera, which wasn't anything too challenging but made me feel proud and allmighty nevertheless." he chuckled a little, shaking his head at the very thought about himself in the past. "I was also alone in the big city, I was stupid and I needed cash, or well, I thought I needed more of it for the booze and other... entertaining things. I wanted an easy and fun side job so it fit me just right when that one man approached me one day in a club and asked me if I would dance for money. Long story short, I've become a stripper. A surprisingly well-paid, young, twink stripper, who didn't fully realise how easily this job he liked so much could destroy his whole career back in the day." he stopped to look deep into Misha's eyes and found nothing but understanding, none of the things he feared he could see. "I was good at this, you know, a true natural. They tipped me better than any of my coleagues, who had slowly grown to hate me. I don't really blame them, I've been a douche back in the day. And then I've been also something else."

"You see, there had been this weird occurence in this club I worked in, a tradition of some sorts. There was this one man who would come every month, regular like a calendar and he..." Jensen chuckled bitterly. "He came in like every other customer, watched all of us perform and then he would sent a rose to the one he liked the most. It sounds like nothing extraordinary, just some man appreciating our work but it had somehow grown into a competition amongst the strippers. It was like an ultimate proof of someone's talent and superiority. The one who received the rose was expected to tattoo one somewhere on his body so that when he came three days later just to check, if his gift had been accepted, a sight of shiny new ink on the soft skin would greet him. As you can easily guess, I received a rose the first time he saw me perform."

"I didn't get a tattoo, even though I knew how important the others thought it to be. I was simply being reasonable as an actor, you know how they are about masking the tats every time it doesn't fit the role" Misha nodded minutely. "You can imagine that he didn't know nor understand that and he was dissatisfied, to put it delicately." Jensen's voice became grimmer. "He came to see me and he couldn't believe I didn't accept his gift. He left the club, literally stormed out of it and my boss would have surely fired me, if I wasn't a popular sensation amongst the regulars. And then something no one could expect happened." Jensen paused for a short moment as if retrieving a particulary blurred or unwelcome memory. "He came back the very next day with another rose for me. Needless to say, I didn't get a tattoo this time either, and yet he kept coming back. It was the fourth time, when I finally looked at him out of pure curiosity. He wasn't much older than we are now, he was handsome and he wanted my attention so desperately I couldn't help but develop this unfortunate crush. I had fallen in love but I couldn't accept his roses as he kept bringing them." Jensen bit his lip. "They are all here, all of them."

Misha took a look around, noticing once again how many of the flowers were there actually. Tones of them, single buds of unique kind and whole buquets of more common ones. Jensen still treasured them all, every single flower on its rightful spot.

"He wasn't giving up, I couldn't break either and all the other strippers had grown to really, truly hate me for destroying the tradition, for seeming greedy and for behaving as if I thought myself better than the rest. They were looking for a way to put me down and it wasn't long before they have found it." he lowered his gaze and grinned a wicked grin full of pain and irony. "Someone recognized me in that soap opera and after a tiny, local scandal with one homophobic producer involved, I was done. My path to becoming a TV star was closed for good." Jensen let his head hang low, hiding his expression from Misha. "I was also finally fired from the club so I was left with literally nothing. Even my family turned their back to me after they had found out what I had been doing. My father had never quite come around afterwards. Anyway..." he sighed. "On the day it all went down I took all the money I had left and tattooed my right arm full of roses. It hurt like a bitch, lasted longer that I expected it to but I clenched my teeth and survived. And then I went to find him." Jensen stopped and Misha instinctively reached for his hand to interwine their fingers together, show his support.

"I can't quite remember who gave me his adress, it was probably the only collegue that pitied me more than he hated what I've done, but I had it and I went there. It was late at night but he let me in, surprised. It was the first time we really talked face to face. I showed him my arm, told him my story and he... He thought that I was blaming him. To this day I cannot wrap my head around how he had gotten that idea but he was so pissed, so mad as if every breath I took personally offended him. I-I don't know what exactly had gotten into me at that moment, I must have been a little wild back then but... I kissed him. In the middle of his rant I just grabbed him and pulled him into a fierce kiss." Jensen shifted a little awkwardly. "He kissed me back, you know? And I thought I had won something, I thought the bad luck had its limits but then he slapped me." he kept avoiding Misha's gaze. "He slapped me hard. And then he slapped me again, screaming that he was no fag. I was so naive it had never crossed my mind that he could think I wanted to pull him down with me as a revenge. I didn't know that he was a rising star of the alternative music scene back then. I only wanted to have someone by my side at the end of that awful day but I had somehow screwed up my last chance. I thought it was all my fault, that I destroyed everything good that ever happened to me, hurting other people by the way." he leaned into Misha's embrace and gladly let him stroke his hair.

"I am the magpie stealing the last beautiful flower." Jensen closed his eyes, exhaling heavily. "He made his career, I kept checking on him from time to time, but I think he had never been truly happy and he won't ever be, if he doesn't accept and love himself for who he really is. I was the one who made him fear the truth, yet ironically I was also the one who had a chance to find it, have a new beginning as I run to finally find myself in this village." he sighed as Misha stroked his ear soothingly; he opened his eyes just to stare in the distance. "This place is like an enclave for people who want to be truly themselves, it calls the people who need to face the truth and make peace with it. I keep my story to myself, everyone does, and we never ask about the past but who we are today is no secret. Here we can truly breathe free, no matter what has led us here to heal our wounds. I'd say it's a magical place, if I believed in magic. None of the adults had been born and raised up here and no one remembers who came here first but we all belong, the ones who don't simply never come here." Jensen took a deep breath. "I had never told anyone before what I told you today and I am glad that I did it. Thank you for listening to me."

Misha didn't say anything. He nodded his head thankfully and embraced Jensen tighter, holding him closer to himself.  
"I really am happy I could tell you about this, Mish." Jensen whispered after a while, his eyes closed again.  
"I'm happy you did." Misha smiled softly and hesitantly kissed his cheek, kissed off a tear that made its way down Jensen's face. And then he leaned down to kiss the magpie on his arm. "I don't believe you to be a thief, you can't steal something that never was there in the first place." his smile grew a little wider. "And I'm really glad no one managed to steal the most beautiful thing from you."  
"What thing?" Jensen finally gathered the courage to look into his face.  
"Your honest heart." Misha leaned down to kiss him fully on his lips.

As the storm continued to roam over the land, they stayed comfortably tucked together, Jensen relaxed in Misha's caring embrace, surrounded by the scent of him and his own faint perfume on his sweater warmed up by Misha's heat. They didn't say anything more; the languid kisses they exachanged told more than any words could. And when the time had come later in the night, they both had fallen asleep just how they were seated. Together.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here comes the angst. Brace yourselves.

When Misha woke up, his first thought was that he was far too old for that as his neck creaked ominously. The second that followed was a bit more alarming as something was pressing way too hard on his stomach but only the third one made him feel a sudden bout of panic. Yesterday had truly happened and there was an actual, real Jensen Ackles snoring lightly against his chest, which was, just to make it all worse, still covered in Jensen's sweater. For a while the world just kept spinning, making Misha feel dangerously close to passing out as every memory clicked into place. This was all too much and too soon, he needed to escape.

Cold sweat covered his forehead as he very carefully untangled himself from beneath Jensen's limbs, hoping that a combination of his stirring and the light of the reluctantly rising sun wouldn't wake him up. Jensen voiced a muffled protest in his sleep but hugged a cushion Misha slid him, grimacing at it for not being a living man.

Misha had to leave the room and sort out his running thoughts before his legs could give up too close to Jensen, in the room that suddenly smelled too strong of roses and home. Misha stumbled into the kitchen and out of the house onto the porch to sit down on the stairs in the oppresive morning drizzle.

So that was about it in terms of careful handling of this situation.

He couldn't believe he had slipped so easily and then actually believed it could be okay to let Jensen open up his heart completely as if it could magically solve all of the problems at hand. He knew how much it must have costed Jensen to go back to these memories and it only made him feel worse and more hateful towards himself. He somehow pushed Jensen to do this, being so stupid to indirectly admit that he was feeling something more, something that could already be called love.

Misha groaned and hid his face in his palms. Objectively, he was being hypocritical now as he himself had fallen for Jensen before knowing his story but denied Jensen the right to fall for him because of his secret. Yet he had known, he could tell it for sure that whatever had led Jensen to this point of life couldn't change the way Misha percieved him. Misha could tell it was all a thing from the past, one that belonged there and could be buried with all the other old scars and untreasured memories.

Misha's past, however, was also his present. And his future. No matter how fast he would run, he couldn't escape it because it was just the way he was. He couldn't burden Jensen with that, couldn't prepare a cross for him to bear behind his back and then throw it onto his shoulders as a surprise gift one day, when he would be too far in to drop it without hurting himself. Misha should have known this was a trainwreck and a downward spiral right from the moment he chose to kiss Jensen throwing all the reason out of the window. He screwed up. He screwed up the only good thing that happened to him in the past few years. He really sucked at this game called life.

Misha sniffed and run his fingers through his now wet hair. He vaguely thought that he shouldn't sit out there, letting Jensen's clothes soak through but he couldn't get himself to walk back inside or crawl into what was left of his tent after the storm. It looked crooked and broken, just like Misha felt right now.

For a while he just sat there, gloomily listening to a frivolous bird chirp playfully between the tree branches despite the depressing grayness of the world. The sound reminded him of a notification sound of his phone so he absently pulled it out. For a while he just played around with it, mindlessly scrolling through the menu and then the contacts list. As his sight fell on Vicky's name, acting on an impulse he pressed the call icon. He rememebered it was just dawning only after it was too late and she picked up.

"I hope you weren't asleep." he said apologetically instead of an expected hello.  
"No, don't worry, I had to wake up anyway since the phone rung." she was sarcastic so at least she wasn't too pissed; besides, she must have sensed his sadness already. "Did something happen?" a note of concern appeared in her hushed voice.  
Misha could hear her moving on the other side of the line. Her girl was probably still asleep then, good.  
"Yes and no." he sighed. "I might have accidentaly confessed my love to Jensen."  
"Did he flip out?" Vicky sounded genuinely worried.  
"No, he actually confessed back and then some more. And that's the problem." Misha rubbed his forehead.  
"Is this the moment when I kick you in the ass for seeing problems where there are none?" she shuffled the chair, probably sitting down. "Because I am so ready to kick you only for waking me up."  
"He doesn't know!" Misha blurted out. "He doesn't know who I am, what a great failure and pitiful creautre I can be, Vic. I can't just ask him to love me blindly and become invested in this just to find out one day that I'm not a person he thought me to be."  
"Honey..." Vicky said softly. "Do you really think he wouldn't love you, if he had met you at any other point of your life? Do you honestly think that he, the man you love, would turn his back on you in the moments of need? Because I am sure, and I don't know the man personally mind you, I am perfectly sure that his reaction to any of those things that happened would be a rage that he wasn't there to help you."  
"You were..." Misha said thoughtfully.  
"I was." he could easily see her nod seriously, loose strands of hair falling out of her messy bun. "I will always be. And so will he for the days to come. You told me enough about him to make me trust him with your heart. If I had any doubt I would already be there, threatening to rip his throat out, if he ever thought of hurting you." she said it so cheerfuly Misha couldn't help chuckling minutely.  
"You're the best wife I've ever had." he said a little more joyfully.  
"I am the only wife you've ever had, silly." she laughed.  
"I love you." he added from the bottom of his heart.  
"I do too. Just slightly less at five a.m." Vicky teased. "Seriously though, I think you can talk to him honestly. And not be afraid of the outcome."  
"Okay." he said. "I will. We'll talk."  
"Tell me how it goes, alright?" he could practically hear her smile lovingly.  
"I will." he smiled back at her, knowing she would hear it too. "Kiss your girl from me."  
"Be glad she didn't wake up." Vicky chuckled. "A grumpy one she is, I am so keeping her."  
Misha snorted. "Grumpier than me? No way!"  
"Ah, shut up." Vicky was full on laughing now. "You have to meet her one day, really. But now focus on pouring that grumpiness on your boy, okay?"  
"He wouldn't appreciate that." Misha chuckled, feeling about a million times better.  
"He will." Vicky sounded misteriously sure of herself.

Misha didn't have time to dwell on that though as he heard Jensen moving inside the house and quickly said his goodbyes, promising to call again soon. He had to brace himself for the day that was about to begin just now. Only that nothing could quite prepare him for what happened next.

***

Jensen stirred awake as a blow of ice-cold air washed over him, making him shiver and clutch his cushion tighter. It wasn't radiating heat like Misha did so naturally it wasn't a satisfying solution. Besides, he heard Misha talking. He couldn't make out all the words and he honestly didn't care to eavesdrop in his sleepiness but one word caught the attention of his fogged mind.

_Wife._

He could feel his heart freeze. Was it possible that Misha was... married? Jensen strained his hearing, holding his breath. And there it came. 'I love you' said so lightly as if it had been said a hundred times before in a cheerful, effortless tone. Jensen couldn't remember how to start breathing again. The rest of Misha's words didn't reach his ears. He couldn't believe his heart kept on beating while suddenly everything made sense.

Jensen actually seduced a heterosexual married man and while the poor guy was trying to take a breather, maybe gently push him away to rethink the situation, he poured on him his pitiful sobstory about how unlucky he had been in the past, somehow emotionally blackmailing him into getting even closer. Maybe Misha was referring to the information about his marriage as the step he felt they were skipping but he didn't trust Jensen enough just yet to tell him that directly? Or maybe even worse, he felt guilty about not being able to repay Jensen for his kindness and thought that this romance, that eventual sex could be a way to settle the debt? Misha was an actor, so what if this was all an act to satisfy Jensen? Jensen had never actually asked him, if he was single and interested, and he couldn't believe he had been so stupid, just assuming whatever he wanted to be true, while Misha stressed almost every day that he thought he owed him big time, seeking for ways to show his gratitude. That must have been it and Jensen couldn't imagine anything more fucked up than that. Suddenly he felt very sick. In the dim light of the dawn, he stood up and run to the bathroom, barely making it there without tripping over his own shaky legs as the world spun wildly around him.

***

When Misha came inside, he immediately heard unnerving noises coming from the direction of the bathroom. Naturally, he hurried there with worry to find Jensen trembling in the darkness, embracing the toilet, tears smeared across his cheeks, forehead covered with sweat. Misha felt his heart sink down to his feet as Jensen sobbed and hiccuped, hiding his face from him.

"Jensen..." he begun softly, suspecting the man could be ill.  
"Please, don't be like this..." Jensen choked out, not letting him speak. "Go away! You're free to go. You don't have to do any of this." he swayed his arm in his direction as if trying to get rid of an annoying fly, slurring his words like a drunken man. "You don't have to pretend any more."  
"What's wrong, Jensen?" Misha felt the first pang of terror, creeping up into his guts to settle there like a burning pain that never really goes away as he realised it wasn't just a sudden flu. "Jen, what happened?"  
Jensen let out a terrifying, bitter laugh that made Misha's hair stand on end. "Don't Jen me, if you don't mean it." he hissed and immediately, as if reflecting on his words, added in a broken voice. "Sorry... Sorry... I'm so terribly sorry..." he sniffed and mumbled. "It's my fault, not yours. You really can go, you have to go! Please, Mish, you don't have to stay!"  
"What the hell are you talking about?" Misha frowned, trying to remain calm, squatting beside him but not daring to reach his hand out.

Finally, Jensen looked into his eyes. He was excruciatingly sad. Sad beyond what Misha could imagine him to ever be.  
"You're free, Misha." he said silently as if in pain. "Please, just leave. And don't feel like you owe anything to anyone ever again."  
"But..." Misha couldn't make much out of his slurred words, couldn't hear them through the loud rush of blood in his ears and erratic pounding of his panicked heart. He didn't understand anything apart from the fact that this was it, Jensen was telling him to get out. To take his baggage of problems, shove it up his ass and get the hell out of Jensen's sight.

No matter what Vicky had thought, it was too late. Jensen realised that something was wrong with Misha, that something inside of him was broken and he couldn't be trusted. He made Jensen sick, while he was so pathetic to think he could take Jensen's love, his heart, his pain without giving the same in return. Jensen must have finally realised what Misha feared the most. That he was too broken to be loved.

"Okay." he said silently, standing up. "I get it. I do." he shook his head. "I've never deserved you anyway." he added in a sad whisper, shooting one last short glance at Jensen before leaving the dark bathroom in a complete silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am SO SORRY ABOUT THIS CHAPTER and that's why the next one will be posted tomorrow in hopes you can somehow survive the night. It's gonna be afwul for a while longer and then I'll make it all better, I promise. Please, don't kill me.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The angst continues but I promise it does get way better before this chapter ends. I'm sorry for putting you through this, I really am.  
> Warning for self-harm and mentions of past suicide attempt.

Misha had made it to his tent without shedding a single tear and he was proud of that. However, as he saw it practically crumbled down and barely standing, he felt himself fall into pieces along with it. His vision blurred with tears and still falling rain, he crossed the tiny patch of grass and crawled inside through the disfigured entrance. He curled into a ball of misery on top of his sleeping bag that felt so cold, much colder than ever before.

He didn't analise Jensen's exact words, he could hear in his voice that he wasn't welcome anymore, that he hurt Jensen somehow and that the illusion had finally shattered. Behind that delusive facade of promising happiness there was just the old pain and an itch to let it out, let it all flow out and maybe be free of it for at least a short while.

Misha hugged his arms closer to himself and found Jensen's sweater underneath his fingertips. His stomach rolled and he struggled to take the next breath. He didn't deserve it. He didn't deserve to claim Jensen so carelessly like he claimed that sweater. Jensen wasn't a thing he could use, he deserved to hear all about Misha's insecurities, the way he couldn't cope with his career failure, with his inability to buy a house for his wife and provide her with everything she deserved, the way he couldn't deal with his own weakness. He deserved to know that Misha tried to bleed it out and tried to end his life despite all the love and support people had for him. That it wouldn't be Jensen's fault, if he were ever to try that again.

Misha was just a broken boy deep inside and he knew that those who loved him deserved someone whole, even though he dared to accept their affection. He dared to crave it. But he also knew that when he lost it, it was just the way it was supposed to be in the first place. He was glad when they didn't blame themselves. It was for the better, no one should have ever been forced to face Misha's nightmares and fears. Especially people as good as Jensen didn't deserve any of that.

He was fully aware that it was the right moment to leave and get as far away from the man as he could not to haunt him any longer but as he laid down, his gaze fell upon his little bag where he kept his hygiene products. He could feel the familiar itch arise underneath his skin. Maybe if he let some of it out first, it would be easier to leave? To survive another foolish dream that could never come true? There was nothing else that he could do now to make it better, after all...

***

Jensen let one last sob out and finally came around. The weight of what had just happened crashed upon him like a tone of bricks. A feeling that he had made a terrible mistake filled his heart with terror and panic. Even assuming that he had been right about his original theory, he had behaved like a complete douche and Misha must have thought him even more of a psycho now, probably running away never to be seen again. Jensen chuckled bitterly at that vision. He deserved just that. He was a fucking freak, a sailor-slash-stripper obsessed with old roses, telling some weirdass tales as if the past even mattered at all. Yes, Misha deserved to know the truth but it could only scare him more. Jensen wasn't surprised he took the chance to flee from this pile of misery that he was.

However, it shouldn't have happened that way. They should have had a reasonable conversation, Jensen explaining he never wished to force Misha to do anything against his vows, to suffer through his company. He wouldn't mention how much it hurt to hear Misha confess his love to someone else. He should have never assumed he could have Misha's heart to himself. Jensen wanted nothing more than to say sorry.

He stood up to rinse his mouth from the puke, collecting himself, when he suddenly remembered Misha saying something more.  
_I never deserved you anyway._ Misha had whispered.  
Whispered. Not meaning for Jensen to hear it, not acting for him. Sounding so sad, truly sad right to the bone. Could anyone fake such a profound feeling? What if there was more to this whole situation? Jensen had thrown a fit like a spoiled child, not thinking clearly enough so early in the morning and he basically kicked Misha out without giving or hearing any explanation, while there maybe was one Misha would like to give him.

So what if Jensen had jumped to a conclusion and destroyed something genuine? Could Misha really fake such an affection? Such a fear for him the other day? His shy confession that sounded so sincere? Slowly but inevitably, Jensen realised that he might have hurt Misha just as badly as he himself felt hurt. What was he even trying to achieve pushing Misha away so brutally? He needed to find him and talk to him right this moment, save as much of what he had broken while he still could. He just hoped that Misha hadn't run away just yet. That it wasn't too late.

***

As he run out of the house, Jensen was relieved to see the tent still standing in his garden. His heart beat wildly as he crossed the rest of the distance in few big steps and shyly called Misha's name. He didn't get an answer, however, he heard Misha shift inside, almost invisible shadow moving away from him.

Hoping it wouldn't make everything only worse, he kneeled on the ground and stuck his head inside the crooked construction.  
"Hey, Mish, look..." he begun but the words that were meant to follow died on his lips.  
Misha sat curled in the furthest corner of his tent, looking very much like a trapped animal. Despite the chilliness of the air he was wearing only Jensen's t-shirt and at first Jensen couldn't tell what felt so off to him but then he noticed the dark drops staining the sleeping bag between them.  
"Mish...?" he whispered fearfully, knowing that something was terribly wrong, worse than he expected it to be.

"Go away, Jen." Misha pleaded softly. "You don't wanna see me like this."  
"Like what?" Jensen gulped around the lump forming in his throat.  
Misha chuckled gravelly, mirroring Jensen's terrifying laughter from before. "Like who I really am." Misha slowly stretched out his arms, grimacing in pain. "A scarred, incomplete, broken toy full of fears and insecurities. There's just no way you would want any part of that and you know that. I am actually glad you know that."

Jensen couldn't help his gaze focusing on Misha's forearms. On top of a constellation of old scars he saw a set of fresh cuts. Deep and bleeding, angrily red and so unfitting, clashing with Misha's fragile skin, indicating a barely contained fury that Misha himself couldn't be capable of feeling.

Misha's grim laughter slowly turned into soft sobs. He started shaking, drops of blood dripping down his hands and Jensen was paralised. With fear and with realisation that he had quite possibly been the dumbest person in the whole universe. He had known that Misha was fragile, he had suspected it from the day one, but he should have known better just how much, he should have been so much more careful and should have never doubted what he saw - the real love in Misha's eyes. One that was causing him so much pain now because Jensen treated it like a caveman, like the biggest idiot in the whole universe trying to nurse a rose bush with an axe.

"I should have told you." Misha sobbed. "I'm sorry. I should have told you everything even before you let me into your garden."

Another drop hit the ground.

"No, I should have realised that first." whispered Jensen, shaking his head and looked right into Misha's reddened eyes. "But I fell head over heels in love and I was too high on it to see the reality, to see that things are never so simple and that you always gotta cherish it and help it grow, be careful not to crash it with one stupid word."  
And before Misha could respond to that, he crawled forward to grab his hands delicately and kiss his wrists.  
"I'm sorry." Jensen murmured. "I'm so sorry, Mishka." he kissed the bleeding cuts one by one. "I don't know what I was thinking, I should have seen it as clealry as I can see now." he moved on to kiss Misha's palms, fingers and rings, two not one but it didn't matter, he should have asked anyway. " And I should have wondered and respected that too."  
Misha's eyes suddenly went wider. "You heard me..." he whispered. "You didn't know until now and you heard me over the phone..."  
"Yes." there was no need to hide the truth, Jensen was done with secrets. "Please, raise your arms to stop the blood loss."  
Misha followed his order almost mechanically. "Why did I assume you knew?" he mused, becoming visibly paler.  
"I've charmed you into thinking I know everything." Jensen teased a little, even though they both didn't really feel like laughing.

"I'm terribly sorry I freaked out on you. And that I was so careless, never bothering to ask if this was what you wanted. Never bothering to talk about what was going on between us and what it meant." he squeezed Misha's forearm, applying pressure to the wounds.  
"Ah, I made the first move." Misha sniffed and chuckled. "I shouldn't have assumed you knew and understood. So to clarify that now, I'm in an open marriage and I'm so used to the idea that it never actually crossed my mind you could not be. Vicky, my wife, knew all about you, she's glad I've met you, actually."  
"Is she?" Jensen looked sheepishly into Misha's eyes, glad to feel his pulse steadying and slowing down underneath his fingertips.  
"She would like to meet you one day." Misha smiled faintly. "Unless you want no part of that now that you know everything."  
"Why wouldn't I?" Jensen was genuinely surprised, then his expression turned into one of a barely contained rage at himself. "Look, Mish, I'm really sorry I was so insensitive and childish. I don't know what's gotten into me, making me snap at you why we could just talk like we do now, minus all the unnecessary pain. I can't believe I could pull such a shitty fit."

"No, you had a right to." Misha said softly, sadly. "I didn't tell you the whole truth, I was hiding these." he raised his arms a little and Jensen squeezed them tighter. "And I was hiding that I'm not the best material for any kind of relationship. Sometimes a little thing is just enough to make me end up like this or even worse and it's ugly. It's so ugly, Jen, and I can't help it. I'm useless and I can't change that. I'm not improving, even though the people who love me fight to make sure I know they will always be there for me. I'm a mess, Jen, I'm a jobless, talentless, insecure person, who feels the worse the more people feel sad or worried about them. And it was terrible of me not to make it clear how much of a burden I can be before cheating you into thinking I'm worth your love."

Jensen listened Misha talk in full disbelief. He searched his eyes and realised that Misha actually believed his own words to be true.  
"Is that supposed to make me suddenly turn my back on you?" he asked and shook his head as Misha gave a non-verbal answer with his embarassed expression. "Well then, you really gotta work on you self-depreciating speech because ain't nobody leaving you or stopping loving you now." Misha turned his gaze away, blushing but Jensen pulled at his hand so that he had to eventually look back into his eyes. "I knew there was this sadness in you, I felt it the moment you first looked at me and guess what? I only wanted to make it go away, to make you smile. Now I know it goes way deeper than a simple bad day but I'm not backing away from the challenge. It's all a part of you and as a part of you it was always there, not quite as hidden as you probably wished it to be. As I said, this village is full of people like you and me and I couldn't expect your story to be less dark than mine so even though it may seem like something that will linger with us forever, I'm here with you and I'm not going anywhere. I can't promise my kisses will heal you like in a fairytale but I'm willing to try anything to make you believe this world can be a beautiful place." he smiled softly. "Just give me a chance to prove that the only thing I could hate about this is me unable to make it better immediately."

"No, no, you can't blame yourself. Ever." Misha protested. "It's always me being weak, never you not being enough. It's never anyone's fault but mine. I can't allow you to feel that way. That's why I'm no good. I hate to think about you sad because of me. I couldn't do this to you. You're too good for this, you don't deserve it, no one does. You and Vicky especially, yet you're both willingly choosing to just do so." he sighed heavily, pain visible in his eyes. "I had to leave home because she wouldn't and yet she still isn't free of me as if she didn't have a choice but to still worry. And now I feel like I trapped you too. I'm so selfish, so so selfish. And you just don't see how awful I am, disturbing your perfect life once and for all. Dammit, Jensen, don't you get how wrong that is?!" Misha tore his arms out of Jensen's grip, hissing as the closing cuts opened up again.

"I get all of it!" finally Jensen started losing his temper. "I get that it won't be a bed of roses, I do! And I'm willing to take care of you because I really, truly do love you, you blind dumbsnot! Even if you left now, I would only think about you for the rest of my life! I would care for you anyway, don't you get it?" he spread his arms as much as he could in the little tent, quite literally baring his heart. "I was a lost case the moment you walked into Jim's restaurant and I don't regret it. I don't regret anything that happened between us so unless it's your way of saying you don't want me, I'm begging you to leave your shell for a while and look into my eyes, really look, and see that I mean it. I mean to love you as much as you allow me to. I want you and need you in sickness and in health. With all your struggles and smiles. With everything that makes you who you are."

Jensen could hear Misha's breath hitch and stuck in his throat. He leaned forward to get hold of Misha's hands again and kiss his scars once more, wanting him to see it, to understand that this changed nothing about the way he felt, just like his story didn't change Misha's view on him. He watched as Misha stared at him, as his lip trembled and as tears welled up in his eyes.

"I wanted to tell you." he whispered. "I was just so afraid..."  
"I wouldn't reject you." Jensen smiled softly, with adoration. "I wouldn't, even if you told me you're a serial killer and a cannibal on the loose."  
This made Misha finally crack up a little. Tears begun rolling down his cheeks as he laughed and then reached for Jensen to cup his face, pull him closer, hesitantly kiss the blood off his lips. Jensen found himself crying too but those were happy tears, tears of relief.

Misha accepting his will to help and to stay was just a first step on a long path to happiness but he was eager to go down that road despite all the obstacles that waited for them. He was sure they could make it through all of them. Together.

For now he concentrated on the way Misha whispered his love and gratitude against his lips and he had no doubt that this was real, not an act. That he had been stupid to ever think this could not be genuine. He felt ashamed of himself and immensely glad that he had been so wrong. He entwined his fingers with Misha's and kissed his palms to show that he didn't see them just as a tool used to express self-hatered. He hoped he would be able to make Misha never wish to harm himself ever again, never feel a need to do so. He was ready to do everything in his power not to let him end up like this, bleeding and hurting, ever again. He knew Misha understood that, he could tell from the way he pulled Jensen into a desperate, devouring kiss.

The blood stopped dripping from the cuts by the time Jensen hugged Misha close to his chest to let him bask in his warmth. Misha was still trembling a little but Jensen could tell he was getting calmer and more relaxed as he rubbed his back and ruffled his hair, whispering promises into his ear. Misha hiccuped and Jensen gripped him tighter, thinking they should go home, when the phone rung somewhere down between them.

"You can pick it up, if you want." Jensen muttered, running his fingers through Misha's hair, and Misha fished the cell out of his pocket, trying to stick as close to him as possible despite his shuffling.  
"It's Vicky." he said weakly and then, answering the call added. "Hold on for a second, I'll put you on a speaker."  
Jensen took a deep breath, bracing himself before greeting Vicky with a sheepish "Hi."  
Vicky was clearly amused to hear him so fearful and simply stated rather than asked "So I take it, it all went well?"  
Jensen and Misha looked at each other. Slowly, Misha smiled, a genuine smile finally reaching his eyes, lively sparks appearing in them again. "Yes." he said. "Very well."  
Jensen just had to kiss him again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... I believe that's about it in terms of the plotty plot, folks! I hope you enjoyed it despite all the pain and darkness. Now the only thing that's left is my favourite part, a smutty and fluffy epilogue for you to enjoy :D For those of you who may not be fully comfortable with the porn, here's your warning - what comes next is living up to the raitng. I hope it's been a satisfactory journey for all of you! :) The Epilogue will be posted later today or tomorrow, if I don't manage editing it on time ;)


	12. Epilogue

The sun still wasn't up, when he had woken up. He couldn't hear the wind howl any more and he couldn't hear the rain humming either. In the grayish calm of the night slowly turning into a day, the only sound was the rustle of his covers as he moved, inhaling deeply, and the slow, steady breathing of Jensen by his side.

Jensen looked so perfectly at peace, surreal like a lucid dream, yet solid and real under Misha's tentative touch. Touch that Misha still couldn't quite believe he had any right to. But here they were, tangled together after Jensen had kissed every scar on Misha's skin just like Misha had kissed every rose on his arms.

He wasn't an inexperienced man and yet he blushed at the memory of Jensen whispering sweet reassurances and praises as they moved together, their finger entwined on the sheets even as they were starved for touch. Their lips explored without shame, leaving marks of love to make up for the ones that pain had left. They drew the maps for the eyes so useless in the darkness, painting pictures with soft gasps and names whispered with reverent adoration.  
Misha's eyes fell shut as he relived the memory of Jensen's weight and warmth, his solidity and his loving lilt. They way they could make it last for hours, feeding that lust slowly with an unhurried trust.

He took a deep breath, nuzzling into Jensen's hair and into a warmer mark on his neck that served as a remainder of what had truly happened. Jensen stirred a little and then, still mostly asleep, turned around to find Misha's face and kiss him shyly but with a clear intent.  
"Mornin'." he mumbled, opening one eye.  
"Hi." Misha blinked, still amazed and disbelieving. "The weather will be nice today."  
"Mhm." Jensen let that piece of information fly over his head as he kissed him once again, lazily.  
"You should get dressed?" Misha hinted.  
"No." Jensen shifted closer to grip Misha tighter. "I'm staying with you. Screw the weather." then, as if rethinking his words, he frowned. "Actually, screwing you would be a preferred option but just staying here together is also fair enough."

Misha giggled silently, trying to slip away but Jensen pulled him back closer, his hand possessively sliding down his side and onto his butt.  
"I also think you need your daily remainder that I love you very much." he added only halfly playfully, a hint of seriousness in his voice.  
"Do I?" Misha muttered breathlessly, staring into Jensen's bright eyes.  
"Yes because I don't want you to ever forget that." Jensen smiled soflty. "I mean it, I truly meant everything I said yesterday."  
"I did too." Misha smiled sheepishly before leaning in to kiss Jensen's lips. "I'm good. We're good."  
Jensen huffed a happy laugh at that. "And you'd better keep remembering that."  
"I will." Misha reassured him and blushed as Jensen took his palm, raised it to his lips to kiss his fingers one by one.

Jensen looked positively mischievous yet his eyes were full of pure adoration and sincere want. Misha felt a thrill going down his spine. That man really did want Misha with all his problems and weaknesses and it was equally magical and completely stupid of him. Misha loved him despite that. And so he didn't have a heart to push Jensen out of the bed and make him go to work just yet. Instead he pulled him even closer and slowly grinded against him, skin flush where they touched.

They continued the languid make out session as they both reached down for the other to stroke their members slowly in a matching rhythm. It was so easy to align with Jensen, their hearts beating like one so close beneath heated skin and exploring fingertips. They didn't need words to communicate when to pick up the pace; they worked together as if they had done it together a million times before, bringing the other closer and closer to the peak. Misha loved the way Jensen whimpered into his mouth, his breath hitching to match the way his cock pulsated in Misha's hand. Misha groaned, encouraging him to let go, biting into his shoulder just above the green leaves of his tattoo to stop a particularly wanton whine from escaping his mouth as Jensen flicked his wrist just so. Jensen wasn't ashamed to moan into Misha's hair, kiss him as he came, sucking on Misha's tongue. Feeling Jensen's warm seed drip between his fingers, Misha had no other choice but to pray his name silently and come along, letting the overwhelming pleasure fog his mind as Jensen held him so impossibly close.

When he opened his eyes again, it was to the bright light of the sun rising to the cloudless, blue sky. He already loved the attic window set right above Jensen's bed; they could stargaze for hours, if they only wished to. Jensen kissed him playfully on the jaw, nuzzling into his cheek.  
"I hate to be the pragmatic one but you still should go to work." Misha tried to push his face away without moving any of his relaxed limbs but obviously, to no avail.  
"Nooo... They'll manage without me. Or at least I hope so." Jensen shrugged and moved on to kissing Misha's neck.  
"You promised to catch Vicky an octopus." Misha rolled away, trying to escape but Jensen chased after him across the bed, reaching out with a long whine.  
"We always catch one by an accident anyway." he grabbed Misha's arm and slid closer to him, plastering himself against his back.  
"Her girlfriend will also want one." Misha was fighting not to crack up as Jensen bit his earlobe, his arms sneaking around Misha's waist.  
"I'm sure they can share that one unfortunate beast we will catch by an accident. Tomorrow." Jensen wasn't giving up.  
"K. will murder you." Misha bit his lip as Jensen's hand moved decidely lower, eager digits sliding around his cock.  
"She's always bickering anyway." it was unbelievable how Jensen could make him feel and react like a teenager, teasing him into full hardness again so easily. "It's like our honeymoon, Mish. And I think you're in a serious need for some more of my lovin' right now."

Misha didn't respond to that, fighting not to yelp helplessly as Jensen's hand worked him up into completion embarassingly fast for the second time this morning. Besides, he was just too blissed out from two orgasms and the emotional high to protest effectively and frankly. He didn't actually want Jensen to leave him even for just few hours as he still needed that physical reassurance that this was for real. A genuine, truly happy smile spread across his face as he closed his eyes and caught himself slowly descending back into the comfortable sleep in his man's arms. The last thing he registered was Jensen whispering a soft "I love you." into his ear. He couldn't tell whether he actually managed to say it back out loud but it didn't matter. Jensen could surely hear it in his heartbeat anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaand... this is the end, for real! I hope you enjoyed that little journey into this alternate world I created! I'm immensely thankful for all your love, support an encouragements, they kept me writing, when the times were hard :) I hope to see you all around some time again ^^  
> If you miss me, you can always visit me on [tumblr.](http://the-rising-demonmistress-of-styx.tumblr.com/) and we can talk about whatever the hell you want to discuss - cockles, poetry, bananas and hardcore gay porn, I'm all game :D  
> Love ya!  
> Lizzie


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